Secondus: A Dramione Fanfiction
by WizardLeviosa
Summary: After the second Wizarding War, war heroine Hermione is returning to Hogwarts as Head Girl. Alongside her as Head Boy is Draco Malfoy, who deserted the Death Eaters at the Battle of Hogwarts, and is returning to Hogwarts under special circumstances on the bequest of Headmaster McGonagall. But their rivalry must be pushed to side when faced with a second Dark power on the rise.
1. New Beginnings

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters._

It was nearly closing time in Diagon Alley, but a lone figure remained, briskly sweeping through the darkened alleyways between the shops as the owners made to close for the night. Caped in exquisite black robes, the cloaked man kept his head lowered. Despite his best efforts to go unnoticed, the few remaining customers still shopping for the day muttered under their breath as he strode by.

He didn't stop to listen. He knew what they were saying about him. What they thought about him and his "kind". What the gossiping witches and suspicious wizards didn't know was that he no longer cared what they said about him. He had few left to impress anymore, and he knew his role in the war left him with a reputation he'd never escape from. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy, after all. He knew he wasn't like his cruel, vicious father.

But they didn't care… they saw only what they wanted to see, believed only the rumors that portrayed him in a negative light. To them, Draco Malfoy was nothing more than an ex-Death Eater, one who could never be trusted in normal society. They watched him with guarded expressions, wary of his movements. He didn't blame them, he didn't trust himself. His entire life he'd been involved in the Dark Arts, and he could kill a man in over a hundred ways (not counting the Killing Curse), each more painful and graphic than the next. He could never change…

 **Draco:**

Only an hour left before Diagon Alley closed, and he still needed to buy a new set of robes. McGonagall had appointed him Head Boy, even despite his involvement with the Death Eaters. He was surprised at her level of confidence in him. He'd deserted the Battle of Hogwarts as soon as his mother showed up with Voldemort and Potter's dead body. Knowing she was safe was his only priority.

After walking away from his classmates to join Voldemort (and be embraced in an unwelcome hug), he and his mother began backing towards the main gates, and the bridge leading away from the castle he'd called home for nearly half of his young life. Even if they didn't make it out with their lives, he knew his mother hated having her son in such a despicable organization. Narcissa was willing to risk capture (and death) if it meant that she and her son no longer had to live under the same roof as Riddle, and she'd been planning the escape since Draco's fifth year once Riddle came back into power.

Draco was all too willing to oblige. Malfoy's serve no one but themselves, and the insolence of a half-blooded dictator was insufferable. He couldn't bear the thought of serving such an idiotic leader any longer. And, despite the misconceptions so many had of him, he didn't hate filthy Mudbloods enough to kill them. He knew they couldn't be held responsible for the misplacement of their magic, and didn't find their murder to solve anything, as more would just keep being born, mutants of nature and freaks in both muggle and magical worlds. They shouldn't die because of their magic.

However, Draco had been raised on the belief of their inferiority, and he couldn't let go of his prejudice so easily. He accepted the presence of Mudbloods, but he knew he was superior in every way to them. After all, the Malfoy line in particular was bred for excellence, and he excelled in everything he did. Malfoys were better than any half-blood or muggleborn, even if those views were unacceptable in the aftermath of the war.

The Order of the Phoenix had begun convicting all war criminals the day after the Battle of Hogwarts. Anyone so much as suspected of harboring hateful thoughts towards Mudbloods or half-bloods was put under constant surveillance by the members of the Order. Draco was no fool. The Order only allowed him to walk free because he was a minor, and because he had deserted before the end of the Battle of Hogwarts.

The Order discovered that Narcissa had been under the Imperious for nearly two years, under Lucius's command, and hence let her remain in possession of the Malfoy fortune and ancient home. Draco was not as lucky as his mother, however. The Order allowed him to live in daily life without surveillance given that he attended Hogwarts to complete his schooling. While finishing his seventh year, Draco was expected to visit Madame Pomfrey three times a week (at his own convenience) to undergo "rehabilitation from war trauma".

He knew the real reason they had him going to visit Pomfrey, though. The Order was still wary of him, still feared him. They didn't trust him to remain peaceful, and going to a therapist would hopefully solve that. If nothing else, they could figure out where his beliefs stood. It was a way of keeping him in check, under the power of the Order who were all-present at Hogwarts within the staff and the student body.

Draco didn't understand one thing, however. McGonagall was admitting him as Head Boy. Him, of all people. Not Golden Boy Potter, or some brainiac Ravenclaw. She surprised him in person one day, flooing into the Manor to deliver the news and to share with him her reasons. They made sense, he supposed. It would create house unity, show the students no one was beyond forgiveness, and he did have the second highest marks in his grade. However, he picked up on all the things she wasn't saying.

She specifically avoided mentioning who Head Girl was. He had his suspicions, though. It was between one of the Patil twins (the one in Ravenclaw, Padme or Havarti or something like that, he never cared much for them) or goody-two-shoes mudblood Granger. The only mudblood who disproved all his theories on blood superiority. He despised her first and foremost for being one of Potter's best friends, but an even deeper hate spurred from the inferiority he felt around her, though he would never admit it out loud (even while under the use of Veritaserum). If she was Head Girl, he might not make it through the school year without using an Unforgivable, or worse.

Before that though, he had to focus on the matter at hand. Buying a new set of Head Boy robes from Twilfitt and Tattings (Only the best for a Malfoy). With his pockets weighed down with Galleons, Draco stepped briskly down the cobbled path towards the end of Diagon Alley, where the robe store awaited him. However, once he approached, it was quickly apparent that the storefront was desolate, and a quick look inside the window confirmed Draco's initial conclusion: the store had been shut down.

Ivadoris Tattings had been a supporter of the Death Eater party, and the Order must have arrested her. He'd hoped the rumors weren't true, but it appeared he was too late. He'd have to stop by Madam Malkins quickly before the store closed it's doors. Hurrying, Draco swept along the middle of the road, no time for lurking in the shadows, as he darted towards the second best robe shop in Wizarding England.

 _The next day..._

 **Hermione:**

"Hurry up, don't want to be late for the train!" Molly Weasley shouted from the base of the stairs in the Burrow. Hermione had remained at the Burrow the whole summer, along with Harry who arrived at the beginning of July. The Burrow was her home now, since her parents had passed away. Hermione had sent her memory-charmed parents off to Australia a little over a year ago, but they never made it back to London alive. A small house fire was all it took to wipe out the two dentists, and the died without ever knowing they had a daughter and an entirely different life.

Hermione pushed those thoughts from her head immediately, though. Today was not a day to grieve over her parents (their unofficial funeral had been in mid-June), but rather a day to celebrate her last year at Hogwarts. After that, Hermione wanted to become either a Ministry employee (if the Ministry found its footing again, that is) or to start a career as a MediWitch at St. Mungo's. Since she couldn't decide, Hermione had decided to take both careers' classes, so that by the end of the year she could enter either work field with ease.

Of course, not wanting to slack on courses, she was retaking her general education classes, despite McGonagall's offer to let her out of them (an offer extended only to Hermione and to no other returning seventh years, mind you). In short, Hermione Granger was fully and completely prepared for the perfect school year, without any Dark Wizards or relationship drama to ruin it for her.

Following their kiss in the Chamber of Secrets during the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron had quickly found themselves awkward, and mutually agreed to break off the tiny relationship before it had begun, valuing friendship over romance. To Hermione, kissing Ron was like kissing her brother. Sure, he was a brother she'd had a crush on for five years, but a brother nonetheless. Hermione couldn't see herself growing old with Ron. You see, that was the determining factor for Hermione when viewing a potential suitor, a trick her mom taught her to weed out the bad candidates.

Her late mother had always told her that once you start imagining a life with someone, you're already too far gone. Hermione had thought she could see herself growing old in the Burrow, but it was a forced fantasy, it never felt natural. It seemed she was doomed to live alone, with only Crooksie to keep her company.

*meeeerowww*

Crookshanks rubbed up against Hermione's leg, snapping her focus back to the chaos of the Burrow. Dragging her suitcase behind her, she shuffled out to the balcony by the stairs, leaning over to the railing to watch the jumble of red-haired people rushing around below. Sticking out like a sore thumb was a messy raven-haired boy, standing in the midst of the fray looking overwhelmed.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted from above, drawing the scar-headed boy's attention. He looked up to find Hermione staring at him, gesturing to the space on the landing beside her. Gratefully, he smiled at her, and began making his way through the crowd of Weasleys to go stand by his best friend of seven years.

"Crazy, isn't it?" Harry said as he trekked up the steep and narrow staircase towards Hermione. "That all the Weasleys manage to make it the Platform every year without one of them going missing..."

Hermione laughed gently. "Molly takes care of that. What's really crazy is that they all still come to the Burrow for the last week of summer for a family reunion!" She smiled at the thought, looking down at what was now her only family. They always managed to make her smile with their crazy antics. Even with the loss of Fred in the Battle of Hogwarts, George kept running the joke store with the help of Percy.

Once Voldemort took over the ministry, Percy left, and lived with the Order, taking care of all the secretarial duties like keeping track of all the members, paying bills and member dues, even organizing the odd Order event. Percy now found himself helping with the business aspect of running a store on Diagon Alley, while George continued to invent new products with the help of Lee Jordan.

Charlie, on the other hand, recently discovered a new breed of miniaturised dragon, which held promise of being tamed in the near future. His discovery made the Weasleys rich beyond compare, and even despite the destruction of the economy thanks to the Wizarding War, the Weasley family no longer needed hand-me-down clothes, and had pulled themselves out of poverty.

Bill Weasley's skills had been re-employed by the Auror department at the Ministry after the War, and he was the only (living) Weasley still missing from the family reunion. Dark artefacts had been coming to the Ministry by the hundreds each week by owl, and he was overwhelmed with the work load. He still made time to floo them each night, and last night he wished Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione a great school year before he headed off to bed.

*mmmerrroooooiiw*

The movement of Crookshanks by her leg made her jump out of her reverie, and she saw Harry staring at her with concern in his eyes.

"It's nothing..." She quickly said. Harry looked at her, dubious at the truth to her words.

"It doesn't look like nothing, you looked like you were thinking."

"I was, Harry. You should try it sometime!" Hermione snapped. Almost immediately, she reverted to an apologetic expression. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, honestly. Just so much is happening, and I have so much to do, and..."

Harry cut off the next part of her rambling though, pulling Hermione into a gentle hug. "I understand you know. You're not the only one who lost their parents prematurely. I'm here to talk if you ever just need a friend."

"I know that, truly I do. I'm just, I don't know... I'm not ready to talk quite yet. I hope you'll understand." Hermione spoke softly, afraid to turn her friend down.

"Of course I do. I'm here for you, whenever you need me. And Ron is too, even if he's too busy stuffing his face with Chocolate Frogs right now to notice." Harry's voice carried a smile with it, and Hermione felt the tension leave her shoulders. This was just what she needed. Just like the old days, one more year of magical mischief at Hogwarts. It was the perfect distraction.

"Oi, Ron! Come help me with Hermione's bags!" Harry Potter shouted down to their third best friend, currently squeezing in as many of Molly's homemade Pumpkin Pasties as would fit in a small bag he carried with him for the train ride.

"One sec, Harry! I just have to finish, er... Packing!" Ron yelled back, unaware that Harry and Hermione could see exactly what he was doing.

"Ronald, Hogwarts has food too you know!" Hermione tsked disapprovingly. Ron pivoted slowly, caught in the act. He found his two friends smiling down at him, and he grinned sheepishly.

"You three, hurry up! I won't make Ginny late because you couldn't keep to a schedule. Move it! And Hermione, dear, get the boys to take your bags for you!" Molly shouted from outside, as the rest of the Weasley family had loaded into the Ministry car Arthur brought home for them. Harry grabbed Hermione's suitcase, and Hermione knelt down to pick up Crookshanks. Together they headed down the stairs and out to the car, with Ron shoving one last Cauldron Cake in his mouth and following in their path. It was going to be a great year.


	2. Platform Nine and Three Quarters

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters._

 **Hermione:**

The platform seemed less chaotic than Hermione had remembered it. She, of course, kept up on the news and knew why, though she had been secretly hoping it wasn't true. Many parents had formed a coalition and petitioned McGonagall, the Headmistress after Snape was killed. The "Wizards and Witches Against Wickedness" wanted McGonagall to not allow Slytherin student re-admittance, and wanted her to refuse any students sorted into Slytherin.

Not to be scared though, McGonagall outright refused the angry parents, telling them quite frankly that Hogwarts was a place for all students. As Headmistress, and as one of Dumbledore's closest friends when he was alive, she knew that Slytherin was not synonymous with evil, yet when she tried to explain this to the concerned parents they refused to listen.

As such, many students' parents took them abroad, and Beauxbatons received many of the typically British students. Some students were even brought as far abroad as Ilvermony (North America's Wizarding school), while still others brought in private tutors.

Hogwarts still was growing, as Durmstrang was shut down after the war. After Karkaroff fled the Death Eaters, no professor took over as Headmaster, and Voldemort terrorized the school through a planted Ministry official posing as Headmistress. At the end of the war, Karkaroff was killed by Death Eaters and no one was able to take over as Headmaster. The school had few students left, and so the Ministry closed it down, making plans to build a new school over the next thirty years.

Hermione noted which students were old Durmstrang students as she walked through the platform. They stood aloof and looked around at the hodgepodge mess of children running across the platform. the Durmstrang students were already in their uniforms, whereas Hogwarts students wore their normal robes or Muggle clothing and would change halfway into the trip once the prefects went around and told them to change.

Hermione searched the crowd for the swarm of redheads she walked in with and saw them loading their suitcases into the luggage carriage. She weaved through the crowd, noting that it was getting thinner as students found their way onto the train to claim cabins with their friends. She couldn't quite get through though, and was stuck waiting in the line leading to the luggage train.

"Hey, Hermione! Glad to see ya here!" said a booming voice from behind her.

Hermione turned around happily, recognized the warm, friendly, and loud voice without even needing to see the person. She was met with a face full of beard hair.

"Hagrid!" she exclaimed, excitedly wrapping her arms around what little she could reach of his body. She may have grown, but hugging a half-giant was still a feat for any mere witch or wizard.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting the boats ready for the first-years at Hogwarts?"

"McGonagall sent me here to deliver a message to ya, actually..." Hagrid started, before Hermione abruptly interrupted him.

"What's the message?" She asked excitedly.

"Well, if ya'd just lemme finish, I woulda told ya!" Hagrid chuckled heartily. Hermione looked flustered, but soon realized that he was merely laughing at her tendency to get over excited. She smiled warmly up at the groundskeeper, and waited for him to finish chuckling. Once he seemed to be calming down, she tried again.

"Well, what's the message?"

Wiping away the tears from his smiling face, Hagrid grinned at the eager girl.

"Well, McGonagall was nervous you had turned down her offer, and wanted me to come an' check on ya, an' maybe ask why?"

Confused, Hermione searched her memory trying to remember what McGonagall had asked her anything. She hadn't heard from the Headmistress all summer and couldn't think of anything from the Battle that McGonagall had asked her.

"I'm sorry, but I really have no idea what you're talking about Hagrid." She admitted bashfully. She normally wasn't forgetful like this, and if McGonagall had sent Hagrid all the way here to talk to her, it must be important. She felt terrible for forgetting.

"Didn't ya get McGonagall's letter? She sent it with the Weasley's little owl a couple weeks ago..."

"Pidwidgeon? He always delivers letters late!" Hermione said, confused. That explains why she hadn't gotten McGonagall's message.

"Well, then I'll just tell ya what it said!" Hagrid grinned conspiratorially at her, waiting for her to get excited too. Not knowing what he was going to say, though, left Hermione feeling out of the loop, so she just smiled at Hagrid warily.

Hagrid took a second to get a more professional look about him, straightening up. "Headmistress McGonagall would like to inquire if you accept her offer to become Head Girl for this year's Hogwarts students."

Proud of himself for delivering the message very formally, Hagrid smiled at Hermione, waiting for an answer. She looked up at him and beamed.

"Of course! I...I'd be honored!" Hermione blurted excitedly.

"Great, Hermione! I'll let McGonagall know what ya said!" Hagrid waved as he started towards the entrance of the platform, presumably to get back to Hogwarts by Floo. She stood staring at him as he walked away, too excited to move anywhere.

"Oi, Hermione, you coming?" shouted Ron from the window of what she presumed was going to be their cabin for the train ride.

"Yeah one second I just have to finish helping the first-years on the train! Hagrid just told me that I'm Head Girl!" She shouted back to Ron (who behind her smiled and poked his head back into the cabin to share the news), turning mid-sentence as she spotted a first-year struggling to lift his suitcase into the luggage carriage. Taking a deep breath, she began her first task as Head Girl. She helped the young boy lift up his suitcase and he looked up at her gratefully.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw a flash of white-blonde. She immediately tensed. McGonagall had appointed her Head Girl after all, and she knew that the owner of the hair she believed she just saw would only bring her grief. She turned to try to follow the head of striking hair but saw nothing.

Relieved, she turned back to the first year to direct him to the train carriage for new students, and found him gone. She felt someone's breath on the back of her neck, and all the hairs on her body stood on end. Turning slowly, she was met with the exact person she had hoped never to see again.

"Long time, no see, huh Granger?"

 **Draco:**

The platform was nearly empty by the time he arrived alone. He didn't have anyone he wanted to greet, and socializing seemed like a bad idea. Not to mention he still didn't think he was really wanted at Hogwarts. Of course, he told none of this to his mother. In Narcissa's mind, Draco had left late because he wanted to make a big entrance when he was announced as Head Boy at the big opening feast. Which, granted, was appealing, but he knew the real reason he came late was to avoid another situation like when he ventured out to buy his robes.

None of the students would understand his real reasons for joining the Death Eaters. They all thought Slytherins were cruel, heartless, had no sense of love... What the imbeciles didn't realize was that a Slytherin's love was the most powerful of all, for it was highly selective. If a Slytherin loved anyone, it was only after great consideration and only towards great people. Lower class witches and wizards wouldn't understand such a thing.

Hufflepuffs loved just about anyone, and Gryffindors were quick to make both enemies and lovers. Ravenclaws were smart, he'd give them that, but when it came to emotions they looked at it from a logical standpoint. If someone liked them back, or if the pros outweighed the cons, a Ravenclaw would quickly proclaim their love. A Slytherin didn't share his feelings, and everything was about duty. It was better that way.

He walked with a purpose towards the luggage train. He was in no rush, but years of training had taught that being alone in wide open spaces was never a good idea, and you can't just shake that sort of wary feeling when you've had it hanging over your shoulder for years of war. However, as he neared the luggage cabin, he caught sight of one of the older girls helping what looked like a wimpish little first-year. She bent down and he lost whatever glimpse of her face he'd almost had.

He moved towards the side of her, hoping to figure out who the figure was. He didn't know who all of his housemates had planned to return to Hogwarts for a seventh year and it was possible this girl was a Slytherin. He needed to get a few allies before the school year started.

As the girl stood up, he suddenly realized why she seemed familiar. The bushy hair. He should have recognized it sooner. She said a few words to the first year, then she suddenly tensed.

Shit. She must have seen him. Draco panicked for a moment. What if she... wait, no. She couldn't do anything to him. He was the Head Boy, he had every right to still be out here. He'd just claim that he was fulfilling his duties. Anyways, he hadn't talked to anyone except for his mother all summer, and had little interaction with friends over owl. This would cheer him up. Confidently he strode towards her from behind, motioning with head to the little kid to scram. The kid darted towards the train, and when she turned back towards the luggage carriage the boy was gone.

He stopped directly behind her, and purposefully exhaled across the back of her neck, as he was easily half a foot taller than her. He delighted as she turned around slowly and almost laughed at the look of shock that crossed her face as she realized who he was.

"Long time, no see, huh Granger?" He said cockily, proud that she was irked by his mere presence.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? Shouldn't you be in Azkaban rotting with your failure of a father?" Hermione spoke vehemently and he could tell she was no longer the same girl he knew from school. War had changed her. Too bad for her, he wasn't the same either.

"Actually," he said with an air of superiority, blatantly ignoring her jab at his family, "I'm the Head Boy this school year. McGonagall asked me to help the younger students load into the train. Of course, this doesn't explain why you're out here, and all alone too!"

He glanced at Hermione, giving her a once over. She'd looked shocked when he had told her he was Head Boy, and he now noticed her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. It was all the confirmation he needed to keep going.

"Have your friends dumped you? Without the war we all knew they'd have no use for a brainiac any longer, but I guess we all thought they'd keep you around out of pity. Guess we were wrong!" He chuckled at his own joke, then continued on. "You know, you shouldn't worry too much. I'm sure they'll need you for homework help soon enough!"

Hermione took a deep breath and turned away from him. Draco knew he should just stop, but he was desperate for the interaction. He found he missed arguing, and here was someone who seemed so close to willing that he couldn't just turn away.

"Oh, has little miss Know-It-All gone mute? Such a shame, but at least we won't have to listen to her insufferable prattle or..."

In an instant Hermione's wand was at his throat, and her eyes seemed stormy, with an unseen fire almost at the surface, burning to break free. But the look passed and in one more second she was back to looking at the ground.

"Malfoy, I'm not going to fight with you. As Head Girl, it would not be appropriate. You should consider the same."

With that, she boarded the train, and he lost sight of her when she shut the door forcefully behind him. He was left staring after her, aghast that she refused to fight. She was so close too, he thought he'd been able to tell.

He had all school year though, living in the same Heads dorm with her. He'd get his fight. The train whistle blew, and Draco knew he had ten minutes to get onboard. He sighed and placed his expensive luggage case into the carriage, grateful that his case would be on top and not squished by any of the lesser luggage from poor wizarding families. It was Italian leather, after all.

Just as he was about to walk off though, he noticed a small navy blue suitcase, made out of plastic and on rubber wheels, by his feet. He looked at the luggage tag.

"Miss H. Granger, Gryffindor Student, Returning Seventh Year"

Suddenly an idea crossed his mind. He'd get his fight. And with that he unzipped the suitcase and began to execute his newly formed plan.


	3. Back To Hogwarts

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters_

 **Hermione:**

She stood in the doors to the Great Hall, ushering in the first-years as they lined up for the Sorting Ceremony.

 _Where the hell is Malfoy?_ She thought to herself. The two of them were supposed to be helping the first years get in order, since McGonagall had to attend to Headmistress duties and hadn't trained any professors on how to do it. Having been a first year and knowing what was required of them to sort the nervous young witches and wizards into clean and neat rows, making sure they all made it to the school.

"Sorry I'm late, dreadful etiquette I know." The droning voice of Malfoy spoke up sarcastically from the hallways behind the first years, where he was making his way towards Hermione without a care in the world.

"You're supposed to be helping me. I'll tell McGonagall on you, and you'll get your Head Boy duties revoked, and… and!" Hermione cut-off, too flustered to say anything else without losing her calm in front of the first years who were watching the exchange with a curious energy.

Malfoy continued meandering towards her, until he stopped directly in front of her, with only a few centimeters separating the tips of their noses. He stared at her, tilting his head as if pondering what he was looking at, then raised his left hand.

Hermione flinched away, war reflexes kicking in, but she stopped herself from grabbing her wand once she realized that he wasn't going to strike her. She immediately straightened, and found herself only an inch or two further from his face. They were nearly the same height, though he may have been a few inches taller than her. He turned his palm towards her face, raising his index finger and placing it on her forehead. She was too shocked at his direct touch (he'd never willingingly touched her before, typical pureblood behavior when faced with a mudblood) to move away. Then, to Hermione's surprise, he slowly dragged it down the center of her face. Reaching her lips, he pulled his hand away, placed his finger on his own lips, and…. "Shhhhhhhhhhhh"

Wiping the spit off of her face, Hermione stared at Malfoy with a fury in her eyes, watching as he laughed at the ridiculous expression she was ashamed to have made when hit by his flying saliva.

"You're making a terrible first impression you know! This sort of behavior is unacceptable, and I'll be sure to inform Headmistress McGonagall about your ineptitude. I'm absolutely appalled and I'm positive she will be too!" Hermione retorted angrily, spitting right back on Malfoy as she lectured him with fervor.

He stared back at her,seemingly shut up by the idea of his Head Boy privileges being put in danger, ignoring the small specks of spit that hit him as she spoke.

Hermione felt even more riled up by his lack of response, but stopped haltingly once she noticed the first years staring at the two Heads put in charge of them. Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself, and turned to face the first years with a bright smile.

"You'll have to excuse the Head Boy for his late appearance. He had other pressing matters to attend to." Hermione spoke cheerfully. She didn't know why Malfoy was late, but he had better not make a habit of it. This time, she figured, he would have a good excuse, and she would take the high road and pardon his tardiness. Next time, she would not be as forgiving and would go straight to McGonagall. Smiling with resolve, she began to explain to the first years what the sorting ceremony was, and set them up into alphabetically ordered lines. Malfoy, she noticed, stayed unnaturally quiet, but she just ignored him as he was probably moping.

 _Typical Pureblood, can't stand being told that they were wrong…_ Hermione thought to herself, then was startled back to the present by a booming voice behind her.

"The Headmistress says ya can come in now, Hermione!" Hagrid said, his figure half hidden behind the massive doors to the Great Hall that he was placed behind. He gave Malfoy a questioning glance, then looked at Hermione with one eyebrow raised. "Are ya two doin' okay? Any problems with each…. er, um… with the first years?"

Hermione shook her head slightly from side to side, and whispered "I can handle the ferret." to Hagrid. Behind her, she heard Malfoy's robes shift, and she knew he had overheard her.

 _Whatever. He ought to know how I feel about him by now anyways._

"All right, first years! Please get into single file and we will proceed into the Great Hall." Hermione spoke loudly, so all the huddled 11 year olds could hear her as she instructed them.

Surprisingly, when she turned around, Malfoy was helping Hagrid hold open the doors. He scowled at her when she gave him a puzzled look, and looked down at his feet. Weird, but Hermione supposed he was ashamed to have been caught doing a servant's job.

 _That'll teach him a bit of modesty. It's good for him._

She gave a small nod, to herself more than anything, and began herding the first years through the door. When they all got inside the doors, she and Malfoy made their way to their respective tables.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Hermione laughed the rest of the night. At the end of the feast, she walked her friends back to the Gryffindor common room, then made her way towards the third floor, where she was to meet McGonagall and Malfy and be shown where the Head's room was. All in all, it was a good night.

 **Draco:**

He tapped his foot impatiently. He sat in the Great Hall for a while after dinner ended, as he still had a half hour before he needed to meet McGonagall and the know-it-all on the third floor. He wandered the castle hallways for a bit, but he eventually ended up on the third floor, beating even McGonagall to the meeting spot.

 _Damn you, Granger. You're supposed to be the one who's always early…_

Finally, he heard the distinct clicking of heels, and spotted McGonagall and Granger chatting as they turned a corner down the hallway. He tapped his foot even louder. Granger gave him a sneer, then returned to her conversation with McGonagall. When they finally reached Malfoy, McGonagall dropped the conversation, and addressed the two of them.

"Alright you two. Now, as I'm sure you know by now, Heads share a common room and a connected bathroom. You will each get your own room. And, let me clearly state, those rooms are pre-assigned, and identical, so there's no point in trying to trade. The door to your room is spelled shut, and only a password will open it."

At this point, McGonagall started walking even further down the long hallway, and Draco rolled his eyes.

 _Great._ He thought to himself. _I'll be getting my morning jog just walking to class every morning._

Hurrying to catch up to the two speed-walking Gryffindors, he found them stopped in front of a large painting of a dragon. From the looks of it's scales, and its distinctive eyes, he assumed it was a…

"That's an Antipodean Opaleye, is it not?" Granger addressed McGonagall with the question, though by the smug look on her face it was clear she already knew she was right.

"Yes, it is Ms. Granger. Beautiful, is it not?" McGonagall replied with a small smile on her face, looking at her favorite pupil with pride. Quite frankly, it was alarming, and Draco couldn't wait to go inside and get away from the two Gryffindors' bleeding hearts.

"That's all well and good, Granger, but I think the more important question is what the password is that we give to the dragon." Malfoy said offhandedly, throwing in a pointed look with one eyebrow raised, daring Granger to defy him.

Granger stared back at him, sticking out her tongue just as McGonagall turned to say the password.

 _Sneaky little witch. Just wait till she sees her suitcase. That'll show her._

"Patefaciolus." McGonagall spoke clearly.

The portrait swung backwards and revealed an expansive room. The whole room was in shades of grey, with the only color in the room being the purple accents adorning various pieces around the room. The room was a large circle. Directly to the right of the door was a small kitchen, with basic cooking appliances, both of the muggle variety and of the wizarding world. Opposite the kitchen, to the immediate left of the door, was a large fireplace of black stone. A small fire was already burning in the hearth, and reflected a warm glow across the deep purple sofa. Across the common area were three doors. One was marked with a purple D, another by a purple H. In between the doors was the door leading to the bathroom.

Draco shoved past Granger, and went to get a glimpse at the bathroom. Inside was a large tub of marble rivaling a pool, with a massive shower big enough for ten people. Flanking the door were two identical sink and counter areas, presumably one for him and another for Granger. There were also two doors on either end of the bathroom which Draco discovered led to their bedrooms.

Draco walked into his bedroom to discover a massive canopy bed, in green. His luggage was already placed at the foot of the bed, and various personal articles he'd brought from home were strewn across the room. It was a smaller room than what he had at home, but it was larger than his shared dorm in the Slytherin dormitories, so he willingly accepted the large bedroom as his own.

He walked back out to find Granger seated at the small dining room table, drinking some hot chocolate and reading a book. Just as he was about to ask where McGonagall went, her bushy head looked up at him.

"She was called away to help settle a housing dispute in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Apparently two first year sisters were sorted into different houses, and the one in Hufflepuff refuses to leave the Ravenclaw dorms." Granger spoke matter of factly, and as soon as she was done speaking went back to reading her book.

 _What could possibly be so interesting that she can't even finish a conversation. Not that I was going to start one, but I expected better etiquette from the great Granger._

Walking leisurely towards Granger, he went right behind her shoulder, where he could read the book along with her. However, rather than read along, he snatched the book from her hands.

"Hogwarts: A History, huh? You know, Volume III is out now. This old copy is from centuries ago." Draco snorted as he flung the old book back at the bushy-haired Gryffindor.

"Not all of us can afford to buy first edition books the day they come out, Malfoy. Most people don't have their father dead and out of the picture, allowing us free reign to the family fortune." Hermione replied, obviously miffed at Malfoy's supremacist attitude.

"My father was killed by the very people you stood with in the war, Granger! You know nothing about him! And that fortune was hard-earned!" Draco shouted back, furious at the insolent muggleborn for bringing up his father, a touchy subject for Draco.

"Hard-earned? You mean stolen through dark magic, torture, lying, manipulation, cheating, and robbery? How hard the Malfoys must work, with their house elves waiting on them foot and hand."

"House elves are common in wizarding culture to any family with even an ounce of renown. Guess the Weasel didn't have one, so you obviously wouldn't know!"  
"They are living creatures! They deserve to be treated as fairly as any wizard!"

"They live to serve, Granger. And they're punished justly!"

"Punished! How could you treat a living, intelligent creature like some pack animal, you foul…"

"You're boring me, Granger. Going with the cockroach insult again? Can't you be clever for once?"

"You despicable slave owner!"

"Stupid, ugly girl."

"Why, you arrogant, self-centered boy!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Slytherin!"

"Prude!"

"Prat!"

"Mudblood!"

At this, Granger's face broke into a fury. Then, to Draco's surprise, the fire dimmed to just her eyes, which remained blazing, adding to her scathing tone.

"I'd rather be a Muggleborn with parents who love me than a Death Eater's failure of a son." Granger spit the words at him, and Draco was surprised at how much they stung. As Draco met Granger's eyes, he saw two tears run down her face, which she quickly wiped away. Before he could comment on them though, Granger had already stomped off towards her room, and as he turned to follow he was met by the slamming of a door.

 _Whatever. The goody-two shoes is just mad that her bloodline was insulted. I only stated the facts. I'm entirely in the right here. She made false accusations against me, I was justified to call her that name after she antagonized me._

Yet, as Draco drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but feel like something was off about those tears.


	4. Head Boy and Head Girl

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters_

 **Hermione:**

She stood in the doors to the Great Hall, ushering in the first-years as they lined up for the Sorting Ceremony.

 _Where the hell is Malfoy?_ She thought to herself. The two of them were supposed to be helping the first years get in order, since McGonagall had to attend to Headmistress duties and hadn't trained any professors on how to do it. Having been a first year and knowing what was required of them to sort the nervous young witches and wizards into clean and neat rows, making sure they all made it to the school.

"Sorry I'm late, dreadful etiquette I know." The droning voice of Malfoy spoke up sarcastically from the hallways behind the first years, where he was making his way towards Hermione without a care in the world.

"You're supposed to be helping me. I'll tell McGonagall on you, and you'll get your Head Boy duties revoked, and… and!" Hermione cut-off, too flustered to say anything else without losing her calm in front of the first years who were watching the exchange with a curious energy.

Malfoy continued meandering towards her, until he stopped directly in front of her, with only a few centimeters separating the tips of their noses. He stared at her, tilting his head as if pondering what he was looking at, then raised his left hand.

Hermione flinched away, war reflexes kicking in, but she stopped herself from grabbing her wand once she realized that he wasn't going to strike her. She immediately straightened, and found herself only an inch or two further from his face. They were nearly the same height, though he may have been a few inches taller than her. He turned his palm towards her face, raising his index finger and placing it on her forehead. She was too shocked at his direct touch (he'd never willingingly touched her before, typical pureblood behavior when faced with a mudblood) to move away. Then, to Hermione's surprise, he slowly dragged it down the center of her face. Reaching her lips, he pulled his hand away, placed his finger on his own lips, and…. "Shhhhhhhhhhhh"

Wiping the spit off of her face, Hermione stared at Malfoy with a fury in her eyes, watching as he laughed at the ridiculous expression she was ashamed to have made when hit by his flying saliva.

"You're making a terrible first impression you know! This sort of behavior is unacceptable, and I'll be sure to inform Headmistress McGonagall about your ineptitude. I'm absolutely appalled and I'm positive she will be too!" Hermione retorted angrily, spitting right back on Malfoy as she lectured him with fervor.

He stared back at her,seemingly shut up by the idea of his Head Boy privileges being put in danger, ignoring the small specks of spit that hit him as she spoke.

Hermione felt even more riled up by his lack of response, but stopped haltingly once she noticed the first years staring at the two Heads put in charge of them. Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself, and turned to face the first years with a bright smile.

"You'll have to excuse the Head Boy for his late appearance. He had other pressing matters to attend to." Hermione spoke cheerfully. She didn't know why Malfoy was late, but he had better not make a habit of it. This time, she figured, he would have a good excuse, and she would take the high road and pardon his tardiness. Next time, she would not be as forgiving and would go straight to McGonagall. Smiling with resolve, she began to explain to the first years what the sorting ceremony was, and set them up into alphabetically ordered lines. Malfoy, she noticed, stayed unnaturally quiet, but she just ignored him as he was probably moping.

 _Typical Pureblood, can't stand being told that they were wrong…_ Hermione thought to herself, then was startled back to the present by a booming voice behind her.

"The Headmistress says ya can come in now, Hermione!" Hagrid said, his figure half hidden behind the massive doors to the Great Hall that he was placed behind. He gave Malfoy a questioning glance, then looked at Hermione with one eyebrow raised. "Are ya two doin' okay? Any problems with each…. er, um… with the first years?"

Hermione shook her head slightly from side to side, and whispered "I can handle the ferret." to Hagrid. Behind her, she heard Malfoy's robes shift, and she knew he had overheard her.

 _Whatever. He ought to know how I feel about him by now anyways._

"All right, first years! Please get into single file and we will proceed into the Great Hall." Hermione spoke loudly, so all the huddled 11 year olds could hear her as she instructed them.

Surprisingly, when she turned around, Malfoy was helping Hagrid hold open the doors. He scowled at her when she gave him a puzzled look, and looked down at his feet. Weird, but Hermione supposed he was ashamed to have been caught doing a servant's job.

 _That'll teach him a bit of modesty. It's good for him._

She gave a small nod, to herself more than anything, and began herding the first years through the door. When they all got inside the doors, she and Malfoy made their way to their respective tables.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Hermione laughed the rest of the night. At the end of the feast, she walked her friends back to the Gryffindor common room, then made her way towards the third floor, where she was to meet McGonagall and Malfy and be shown where the Head's room was. All in all, it was a good night.

 **Draco:**

He tapped his foot impatiently. He sat in the Great Hall for a while after dinner ended, as he still had a half hour before he needed to meet McGonagall and the know-it-all on the third floor. He wandered the castle hallways for a bit, but he eventually ended up on the third floor, beating even McGonagall to the meeting spot.

 _Damn you, Granger. You're supposed to be the one who's always early…_

Finally, he heard the distinct clicking of heels, and spotted McGonagall and Granger chatting as they turned a corner down the hallway. He tapped his foot even louder. Granger gave him a sneer, then returned to her conversation with McGonagall. When they finally reached Malfoy, McGonagall dropped the conversation, and addressed the two of them.

"Alright you two. Now, as I'm sure you know by now, Heads share a common room and a connected bathroom. You will each get your own room. And, let me clearly state, those rooms are pre-assigned, and identical, so there's no point in trying to trade. The door to your room is spelled shut, and only a password will open it."

At this point, McGonagall started walking even further down the long hallway, and Draco rolled his eyes.

 _Great._ He thought to himself. _I'll be getting my morning jog just walking to class every morning._

Hurrying to catch up to the two speed-walking Gryffindors, he found them stopped in front of a large painting of a dragon. From the looks of it's scales, and its distinctive eyes, he assumed it was a…

"That's an Antipodean Opaleye, is it not?" Granger addressed McGonagall with the question, though by the smug look on her face it was clear she already knew she was right.

"Yes, it is Ms. Granger. Beautiful, is it not?" McGonagall replied with a small smile on her face, looking at her favorite pupil with pride. Quite frankly, it was alarming, and Draco couldn't wait to go inside and get away from the two Gryffindors' bleeding hearts.

"That's all well and good, Granger, but I think the more important question is what the password is that we give to the dragon." Malfoy said offhandedly, throwing in a pointed look with one eyebrow raised, daring Granger to defy him.

Granger stared back at him, sticking out her tongue just as McGonagall turned to say the password.

 _Sneaky little witch. Just wait till she sees her suitcase. That'll show her._

"Patefaciolus." McGonagall spoke clearly.

The portrait swung backwards and revealed an expansive room. The whole room was in shades of grey, with the only color in the room being the purple accents adorning various pieces around the room. The room was a large circle. Directly to the right of the door was a small kitchen, with basic cooking appliances, both of the muggle variety and of the wizarding world. Opposite the kitchen, to the immediate left of the door, was a large fireplace of black stone. A small fire was already burning in the hearth, and reflected a warm glow across the deep purple sofa. Across the common area were three doors. One was marked with a purple D, another by a purple H. In between the doors was the door leading to the bathroom.

Draco shoved past Granger, and went to get a glimpse at the bathroom. Inside was a large tub of marble rivaling a pool, with a massive shower big enough for ten people. Flanking the door were two identical sink and counter areas, presumably one for him and another for Granger. There were also two doors on either end of the bathroom which Draco discovered led to their bedrooms.

Draco walked into his bedroom to discover a massive canopy bed, in green. His luggage was already placed at the foot of the bed, and various personal articles he'd brought from home were strewn across the room. It was a smaller room than what he had at home, but it was larger than his shared dorm in the Slytherin dormitories, so he willingly accepted the large bedroom as his own.

He walked back out to find Granger seated at the small dining room table, drinking some hot chocolate and reading a book. Just as he was about to ask where McGonagall went, her bushy head looked up at him.

"She was called away to help settle a housing dispute in the Ravenclaw Common Room. Apparently two first year sisters were sorted into different houses, and the one in Hufflepuff refuses to leave the Ravenclaw dorms." Granger spoke matter of factly, and as soon as she was done speaking went back to reading her book.

 _What could possibly be so interesting that she can't even finish a conversation. Not that I was going to start one, but I expected better etiquette from the great Granger._

Walking leisurely towards Granger, he went right behind her shoulder, where he could read the book along with her. However, rather than read along, he snatched the book from her hands.

"Hogwarts: A History, huh? You know, Volume III is out now. This old copy is from centuries ago." Draco snorted as he flung the old book back at the bushy-haired Gryffindor.

"Not all of us can afford to buy first edition books the day they come out, Malfoy. Most people don't have their father dead and out of the picture, allowing us free reign to the family fortune." Hermione replied, obviously miffed at Malfoy's supremacist attitude.

"My father was killed by the very people you stood with in the war, Granger! You know nothing about him! And that fortune was hard-earned!" Draco shouted back, furious at the insolent muggleborn for bringing up his father, a touchy subject for Draco.

"Hard-earned? You mean stolen through dark magic, torture, lying, manipulation, cheating, and robbery? How hard the Malfoys must work, with their house elves waiting on them foot and hand."

"House elves are common in wizarding culture to any family with even an ounce of renown. Guess the Weasel didn't have one, so you obviously wouldn't know!"  
"They are living creatures! They deserve to be treated as fairly as any wizard!"

"They live to serve, Granger. And they're punished justly!"

"Punished! How could you treat a living, intelligent creature like some pack animal, you foul…"

"You're boring me, Granger. Going with the cockroach insult again? Can't you be clever for once?"

"You despicable slave owner!"

"Stupid, ugly girl."

"Why, you arrogant, self-centered boy!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Slytherin!"

"Prude!"

"Prat!"

"Mudblood!"

At this, Granger's face broke into a fury. Then, to Draco's surprise, the fire dimmed to just her eyes, which remained blazing, adding to her scathing tone.

"I'd rather be a Muggleborn with parents who love me than a Death Eater's failure of a son." Granger spit the words at him, and Draco was surprised at how much they stung. As Draco met Granger's eyes, he saw two tears run down her face, which she quickly wiped away. Before he could comment on them though, Granger had already stomped off towards her room, and as he turned to follow he was met by the slamming of a door.

 _Whatever. The goody-two shoes is just mad that her bloodline was insulted. I only stated the facts. I'm entirely in the right here. She made false accusations against me, I was justified to call her that name after she antagonized me._

Yet, as Draco drifted off to sleep, he couldn't help but feel like something was off about those tears.


	5. Sweet Revenge on the Kind

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters_

 **Draco:**

It was a bright and sunny first day of classes. The sun streamed through Draco's window. Outside the window, the birds chirped cheerfully. In the hearth of the fireplace in Draco's room, the last remaining fire crackled to a halt, and the room grew chilly. But that wasn't what gave Draco goosebumps. Rather, it was the enraged scream that came from within the joint bathroom.

"I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS! OPEN UP THIS DOOR RIGHT THIS SECOND!"

A pounding on the door soon followed, and Draco drearily rolled out of bed, making his way towards the bathroom door very, very slowly.

"OPEN RIGHT NOW OR I'M COMING IN!"

"Perfect!" Draco shouted back. "That means I don't even need to get out of bed!"

Draco started trekking back towards his bed, when suddenly he was hit in the back. Turning around to see what hit him, he was met by a small black oxford on his floor, women's sized. Standing in the open doorway to the bathroom was a furious Granger, seething with rage.

"You BASTARD!" Granger chucked the other oxford at his head, and Draco barely ducked in time, as it bounced off the bed post just to the north of his head.

"What did I do?" Draco asked innocently. Granger had yet to step into the light, but he assumed that this outburst had to do with the little surprise he'd left for Granger in her suitcase.

"You know exactly what you did. This doesn't just happen on accident!" At this, Granger finally stepped into the light of his room.

The first thing Draco noticed were the bunny slippers donning Grangers feet/ Making his way up, he noticed she was wearing a large pair of sweatpants and a tank top with a large peace sign on the front. However, the real standout of her outfit was her hair. Specifically, the fact that it was now bright green.

"Trying out a new look, huh Granger?" Draco snarked, leaning against the bedpost with his arms crossed.

"Fix it. Now, Malfoy. I'll give you ten seconds before I curse you so hard you won't even be able to come back as a ghost.'

"I didn't do anything! How would I know how to…"

"9… 8…. 7…."

"It's a good look on you! You oughta keep it!"

"4….. 3…."

"Alright! Alright! Fine. You ruin all the fun." Malfoy gave in. He didn't doubt that he could beat Granger in a duel, but that was only if he used the dark spells he knew. If they were limited to only legal spells, he no longer surpassed Granger in spell variety, and they would be equally matched, if not her being greater suited to it than he. The odds of him winning were too small to depend on. Plus, much as he hated to admit it, Granger was scary when she was angry. She wasn't short by any means, but when she was angry she grew larger than that oaf Hagrid in terms of intimidation

"It's only six am, you know. Classes don't start until 1 this afternoon. You could keep it like this for a while longer if you wanted….." Draco droned, stalling to see how angry he could make her before she snapped.

"Until my hair is back to normal you are not leaving this bedroom, you hear!" Fix it now!"

Draco thought for a second.

"Well," he said, "I don't have anywhere to be until 1 so I suppose we can hang out since you so desperately want to."

Granger's face went from rage to shock, then right back to rage again.

"I'll curse you right now ferret, I'll-"

"If you curse me you'll never get your hair changed back, now will you?" Draco remarked casually, crawling back into bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep."

As Draco shut his eyes, he heard the bathroom door slam, and he contentedly drifted back to sleep.

When he woke up again, he was met with an empty room. He trudged his way towards his bedroom door, ready to prepare himself a late breakfast in the kitchen. As he reached to open the door, though, he was shot back into the air.

"Granger is gonna get it for this…." Draco muttered under his breath as he walked to the bathroom door. Reaching for the handle here, he met the same fate, and found himself on his ass across the room once more.

"Damn you, Granger." Draco spoke loudly, knowing the conniving little witch would be listening. Sure enough, Granger walked into his bedroom through the main door only a minute later.

"You called for me? Have something you want to say?" The green-haired witch smiled smugly at Draco, and he knew that he couldn't win this.

"Open the door to the bathroom." He said defeatedly.

"I certainly will not. You can't leave this room until you change my hair back to nor-"

"Oh, shut it, will you? We need water to help rinse out the dye once I undo the permanency charm." Draco cut off the beginning of Granger's rant before it could start, annoyed that his clever plan had ended up just humiliating him. Frustrated, he gestures impatiently towards the door.

"Oh. Sorry…. I just thought you were-" Granger trailed off, looking down at her feet, which now bore the oxfords she had flung at his head earlier.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Now do you want your hair back to normal or not?" Draco gestured again to the door, tapping his foot for added annoyance level.

Granger opened the door, after muttering a small counterspell to unlock the door and remove the shocking jinx.

Draco followed her into the large bathroom.

"Now," he said, "lean your head back into the sink."

Granger, always overly cautious, gave him a questioning look, but for once in her life did as he instructed. Once her hair was in the sink bed, he muttered a few incantations.

"Alright, the dye is back to being temporary now. It should wash out with some shampoo and water." Draco said, then walked out of the bathroom.

Once he was in his bedroom, though, he realized that his door was still locked. He walked back into the bathroom after a few minutes to find Granger drying off her now brown-once-more hair. As she looked up through her wet locks, he felt a small smile come across his face,

"You look like you just walked through a hurricane!" Draco chortled.

"Did you come in here just to make fun of me or did you actually want something." Granger rolled her eyes and gave Draco a pointed look. He felt the smile disappear from his face as he remembered that the two of them were friends. They didn't joke around.

 _What the hell am I doing._ Draco thought as he cleared his throat.

"Um, my door is still locked. And I need to eat something before classes start in a couple hours, so I was wondering if you could, uh…" Draco stumbled over his words.

"Whatever." Granger made her way to Draco's bedroom door and once more muttered an unlocking spell. Then, she undid her shocking jinx and walked away without another word.

 _Damn. I really pissed her off. Serves her right for thinking she could decide when we fight._

Even though Draco didn't want to admit it, he had enjoyed their skirmish this morning, and looked forward to her revenge. Or rather, he looked forward to getting his revenge after she got her revenge. And he knew that she would.

 **Hermione:**

 _That insufferable, arrogant prat! I should've cursed him into oblivion when I had the chance._

As Hermione saw Malfoy leave through the open door of his bedroom, she stalked back into her own room. Almost immediately, she calmed down.

Her room reminded her of the Gryffindor common room, and this thought alone set her mind at ease. She absentmindedly ran her fingers along the soft, satin sheets as she flopped back onto the bed. She stared at the ceiling, and decided that she may as well be productive before classes start.

Hermione ventured back into the main common room area, mind set on ignoring the ferret she assumed was lounging out there. However, as she walked towards where she had left her book in front of the fireplace, she noticed that the blonde haired nuisance was nowhere to be found.

 _All the better. Finally I can get some peace and quiet around here._

Hermione made her way back into her bedroom, and sat down on her large bed. It was not a canopy bed as in Malfoy's room, but rather a wooden framed, modernistic style. It seemed less stuffy than the claustrophobic beds of Gryffindor Towers, that was for sure. She flipped to a page near the beginning of the Hogwarts: A History, and took out her wand, aiming for the ceiling.

"Imitatione Caelum." Hermione spoke clearly, then followed the wand waving instructions perfectly. A bright glow of blue erupted from her wand and, right before her eyes, small veins started reaching from her wand up to the ceiling. They branched out like roots across the ceiling, and then grew wider until the entire ceiling was aglow. As the light dimmed, Hermione was met with a bright blue sky, with a few lone clouds drifting aimlessly across the ceiling.

"Just like the Great Hall." Hermione spoke proudly, as she smiled at her handiwork. As she admired the view above her, her eyes fell on the small clock on her bedside table.

"Merlin! I'm about to be late for my first day of class!" Hermione bolted upright, and quickly raced out the door. This was all Malfoy's fault, she was sure of it. She'd make him pay.

Just as Hermione slid into the classroom of Professor Flitwick, the clock's minute hand ticked to one. Hermione quickly spotted Harry and Ron across the room, and made her way over to them. Neville had saved her a seat between him and Harry, and she smiled at him gratefully as she took a seat. Beside him was Luna, staring at her quill as she twirled it around in her hands.

"Welcome back students! I trust your first night back in the halls of Hogwarts was to your satisfaction?" Professor Flitwick spoke as he walked into the classroom, clambering up a small set of stairs to stand on top of his desk so as to make himself more visible to the students.

"Yes Professor." The class replied in unison, speaking in a monotonous drawl that filled the room.

"Right! Before we begin our lesson, Headmistress McGonagall has informed me that she would like everyone to know about some, erm, changes…" Flitwick cleared his throat before continuing.

"This year, all students are invited to visit the hospital wing to go through grief counseling with Madam Pomfrey, our head nurse. She will welcome any visitors at any hour, so all you need do is ask."

Murmurs spread around the classroom. No one wanted to admit that they needed counseling, but most students really needed to talk through their feelings. The murmurs gauged how acceptable it was at the current moment to visit the Hospital Wing for grief counselling.

Hermione shook her head. There was no shame in needing someone to talk to. She had Harry and Ron, and even Ginny to some extent to go to with her problems, so she didn't need it. She wasn't expecting anything major to happen to her that hadn't already. When she learned of her parents death, she visited a muggle therapist. But that's the only time she felt she couldn't go to Harry or Ron.

They didn't have their parents die not knowing who they were. Harry's parents knew him, loved him, and he couldn't remember them well enough to miss more than the idea of them. Ron still had his parents around, and losing a sibling just wasn't the same. She felt like most any other problem she came to them with would be solvable though.

As Hermione glanced around the room, she noticed one person not murmuring to another about maybe going in to see Pomfrey. The blond Slytherin was leaning back in his chair, seemingly nonchalant about the whole ordeal. However, she noticed that Malfoy's hands were gripping his quill tightly. And that his back was a little bit too straight. He kept his head down, staring at his knees.

 _Curiouser and curiouser._ Hermione thought to herself, smiling as she quoted one of her favorite childhood stories. _Malfoy doesn't seem to like the idea of people going to see Pomfrey, which isn't odd in and of itself. However, I'd have expected him to be scoffing at his peers, telling them that he'd 'Never be caught dead getting therapy' or something of the like. Why is he so obviously opposed to grief counseling yet not speaking out against it in a typical prat-like fashion?_

Hermione kept staring at him as she puzzled over his actions. As she thought, she didn't notice him stiffen, feeling eyes on his back, and turn and meet her gaze. As they locked eye contact, Hermione looked quickly away from Malfoy's stormy grey stare, and turned to talk with Harry and Ron.

As she chatted, she found herself thinking about what she saw in Malfoy's eyes when they stared at each other. He didn't look angry like she was so used to seeing. He didn't look arrogant. He didn't even look bored. No, what she saw in his silver eyes was quite discerning.

She didn't see a Malfoy she knew. She didn't know how to deal with this Malfoy. This Malfoy was a new variable, an unknown in her otherwise constant world.

This Malfoy's eyes held vulnerability. They held emotion. These eyes looked scared, though of what she did not know. And, most surprisingly of all, this Malfoy almost looked like he was pleading for help.

More surprisingly than even that, though, she felt like she was the only one who could help him..


	6. Momma's Boy

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters_

 _Two Weeks Later_

Draco:

The long winding halls of Hogwarts were entirely empty as his footsteps echoed on the stone of the castle. He walked at a leisurely pace as he made his way towards the Hospital Wing, in no rush to get to his session with Pomfrey. They'd been going well, and he'd taken to dropping by just to say hello on many an odd occasion. Pomona Pomfrey reminded him of his mother, in her kindly nurturing ways. Pomfrey also didn't seem to hate him, as he felt so many did in the aftermath of the war.

His classmates avoided walking too close to him, and he would frequently catch professors giving him wary glances as they taught, as if they were ready for him to jump up and try to Avada Kedavra everyone in the room.

"Hello dear! I just need to finish brewing this potion before I chat with you. You can head back to the room if you like!" Madam Pomfrey greeted him with a smile on her face, as she bustled around the empty Hospital Wing, tidying.

Draco looked at her with a warm affection. Even without any patients, the Head Nurse at Hogwarts was always busy, constantly preparing with a happy smile about her face.

So much like his mother.

He really did miss her. Though he wasn't shunned in Slytherin, he didn't have anyone to talk to about his feelings. His friends, despite their worry for him during the war, weren't the emotional sort. Slytherins didn't show their feelings. This was their defensive mechanism.

Slytherin loyalty is the rarest and the strongest. Hufflepuffs are loyal to anyone, Gryffindors are fast to choose sides, and ally themselves with anyone who seems to be on the same side as them. Ravenclaws were smarter that the hot-headed members of the lion house, but they still often chose to ignore the facts in front of them, opting instead for what would make their life of endless puzzles slightly easier. By believing they were right about a person, they turned a blind eye to the wrongs that person committed, and that was their flaw.

Slytherins weren't like that though. Even if you were on their side, even if all the facts pointed to you being loyal, they still doubted you, never believed.

The only person Draco could truly trust was his mother. He had grown to loathe her for becoming so distant when the war was at it's peak, but when his family was taken into the Ministry for questioning the officials soon noticed something Draco had failed to miss himself.

Yaxley, one of the Dark Lord's head Death Eaters (who was killed by a stray Avada Kedavra halfway into the Battle of Hogwarts) had apparently placed his mother under the Imperius curse, meaning that his mother was excused from any war crimes she had committed.

His father, on the other hand, was not as lucky. Despite his father failing Voldemort and being pushed down the ranks of the Death Eaters, the amount of blood on his father's ledger was too numerous to be pardoned. He was put in Azkaban, and driven to insanity in record time. Narcissa appealed to the Minister for him to be killed as a merciful act of the government, to show that the Ministry still possessed a sense of kindness, and with that argument his father was executed two weeks before the start of the Hogwarts school year began.

Draco trusted his mother with not just his life but also with his heart, something which had been broken so many times already. With his father gone, she was the only who could claim to hold what was left of Draco's shrunken and shrivelled heart. But at least, in Draco's mind, that meant he still had a heart.

He clung to that thought with all his might. That he wasn't a monster. That his mother loved him still. That he wasn't unsaveable. But he knew that no one would ever attempt to save him, so he may as well accept his fate. Draco knew that as soon as his education at Hogwarts ended, as soon as he turned 21, he had to be fully reformed, prove his goodness to the Ministry, or they would send him to Azkaban without a second thought.

No matter how he tried though, Malfoy couldn't let go of his ideals, the things his father had hammered into him from a young age. He couldn't drop his aristocratic glares, or his stinging comments. They would be the death of him, and as his first month at Hogwarts was coming to a close, the only person who seemed to believe him capable of changing was Pomfrey. He doubted it himself, but he still attended her sessions, and he appreciated her care for his wellbeing.

The thought made his heart sting again. _Back to mother, I see._ This was common. Draco would find himself thinking in full loops, connecting everything back together, without ever finding a solution to his problem, instead just finding out how complex his struggles were. _It's hopeless. There's no solution, no one wants to help me except for Pomfrey and mother. And they've already tried their best and failed._

Draco took a deep breath. He only had a few more years before Azkaban under that mindset, and though he couldn't quite grasp why he kept trying, he pushed on, living day to day. _Until imprisonment, the same routine. Just go through the motions, and you'll stay out of Azkaban until then._

Reciting this mantra, Draco stepped into Pomfrey's office, and began another session that made him feel happy for only a moment. And, as he left, he knew it was just another session where he talked about things that didn't matter, about feelings no one cared if he had or not, about people he wouldn't ever get to see once he went to jail. Head down, he retreated to the common room.

Hermione:

The door creaked open as Malfoy re-entered the common room. Hermione glanced at her watch, noticing that Malfoy hadn't even been gone for an hour. She had been noticing this as the school year dragged by, noticing that he would leave at random points of free time, disappearing to Merlin knows where.

And, of course, as the Brightest Witch of Her Age, Hermione was determined to figure it out.

As he began making his way towards his room, ignoring her questioning look, she stood up from the couch she was lounging on.

"Hey Malfoy!" She said cheerily, getting his attention.

"What do you want, Granger?" He turned icily, pushing his shoulders back and standing up to his full height, looking thoroughly intimidating, even though Hermione wasn't much shorter than him.

Hermione made her way over to him, so she wouldn't be shouting across the sizeable common room.

"Just wanted to tell you that I have a meeting with McGonagall tomorrow morning, so you'll need to meet with the prefects on your own for the weekly Saturday meeting in my place." Hermione said offhandedly as she placed her bookmark into her book.

"It's your week, can't you just reschedule it to be later in the day?" Malfoy replied without missing a beat.

"Yeah, I suppose I could…" Hermione replied.

"Not that you needed me to suggest that, seeing as you changed it this morning on the schedule." Malfoy said with smirk, catching her lie.

 _Merlin, so he actually does pay attention to the schedule._ Hermione though, grumpy at being caught with such a false pretense to start a conversation.

"So," Malfoy drawled, getting bored. Hermione noticed he had let go of the stiffness and became more relaxed the longer they talked. "What did you actually want to talk to me about?"

"Well, I noticed that you-" Hermione cut off her sentence. Malfoy never seemed very at ease these days, and it was nice to see him letting himself breathe. If she interrogated him, he wouldn't calm back down into their comfortable pattern for a few weeks at the least.

As long as he was stoic around her, the prefects noticed his change in attitude, and would bring all the conflicts to her. That meant more work on her plate, with a partner who was blatantly ignoring her.

 _Better to keep him calm. Plus, he's not half bad when he lets his guard down a bit._

"Yes? Granger did you suddenly forget how to speak?" Malfoy smirked (again). "Great Merlin! The great Hermione Granger has forgotten how to blabber! Thank Salazar! Thank-"

At this point, Hermione gave Malfoy a good whomp on the head with her book.

"Is that necessary? I was just gathering my train of thought is all!" Hermione replied indignantly, turning her shoulders away from Malfoy and crossing her arms. Malfoy stepped around her, so that he was back in her eyesight, where he was overdramatically rubbing his head.

"You know, that textbook is at least 600 pages, it actually hurts. And violence isn't always the answer, little miss Gryffindor." Malfoy spoke tauntingly, smirking at her as he so often did.

"It is with an ex-Death Eater!" Hermione laughed back, then clasped her hands over her mouth. The two of them had been careful since that first night to never insult the other based on labels. It was the only way they had managed to keep an unsteady partnership thus far.

Malfoy stared back at her, looking confused for a second as he processed what she just said.

"Malfoy, I'm so sorry it just… It just slipped out! I'm sorr-"

"Stop."

"Malfoy I didn't mean it, I just… I mean, well…" Hermione tripped over her words. Malfoy wasn't acting angry like he normally did. Before the war, their fights would blow up, and many times they had been sent to the Headmaster to be thoroughly reprimanded. Her scathing remarks would slide off him, and he'd shoot them right back. On their first day back, Hermione thought he was the same, though perhaps less antagonistic.

But this Malfoy? Hermione thought back to a few weeks ago in Flitwick's class, when she caught him looking scared. She knew that he'd seemed off, and this was just like that all over again. He seemed so bruised, but from what she couldn't tell.

Then again, there were so many things that could have hurt him, and out of everyone he was probably the most troubled. She couldn't begin to imagine the things he'd done as a Death Eater. He must be feeling guilt, maybe even a bit of regret.

That's when she put two and two together. If Malfoy looked sad and guilty when Flitwick was talking about Pomfrey's therapy sessions, Malfoy must have been ashamed, because he himself already had paid her a visit.

It was completely speculation, Hermione knew, but there was one way to find out. Next time he went missing she'd make her way to the hospital wing and see if he was there. Then she'd be able to better understand what was going on with her co-head.

"I'll be in my room." Malfoy spoke, halfway across the room as he jolted Hermione from her thinking.

"Malfoy, I know you aren't a bad guy, it just slip-"

The door slammed, cutting Hermione off before she could finish her hurried apology.

 _At least I know he's working through his demons a little bit with Pomfrey. Maybe, once I verify that he is one of Pomfrey's therapy students, I can help. Be a second counselor._

Steadfast in her decision to help him out, Hermione didn't chase after him. She took a deep breath and went to the kitchen to make herself a hot chocolate. She knew she could have called a house elf, but she felt it was calming to make it herself.

Taking a sip of the frothy warm chocolate, she sat down on the couch in the common room to wait for Draco to come back. Opening up one of her muggle books she had brought from home, Hermione began to read, comforted by the words on the pages.

Draco:

Hours later, the door to the common room creaked open. As Draco stepped into the dimly lit room, he noticed that the fire had died down to mere embers. Stepping towards the fireplace to finish putting out the fire, he noticed a figure on the couch.

"Granger, why are you still awake? I'm not mad anymore you didn't have to wait fo-" Draco cut off his sentence as he noticed that she was asleep. Shaking his head, he flicked his wand towards a blanket laying a few feet away, and levitated it over her curled up body.

Calling a house elf to finish clearing away Granger's dishes, he put out the remaining flickering flames, and trudged towards his room, exhausted for some reason.

 _It is late, after all. Its entirely normal to be tired at this time of night._ Draco tried to convince himself that, but he knew otherwise. He never was able to fall asleep before 3am, and it was barely past midnight. As much as he knew it was normal, it was insanely irregular for him.

He tried to convince himself it was because of school. He even, for a second told himself he had been hexed on his way up to the room. But, deep down, he knew he only fell asleep early when he felt entirely safe. And, for some reason, seeing Granger asleep, and knowing she was right outside his room, made him relax more than he cared to admit.

Flopping onto his bed in exhaustion, Draco laid down, and the last face he saw before he drifted asleep was that of Hermione asleep on her couch.


	7. The Second Dark Lord

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters_

Hermione:

Waking up the next morning, she realized she had fallen asleep on the couch. Pushing off the blanket that was over her (though she didn't remember having one last night) she got off the couch with a large stretch and a very audible yawn. Shuffling to the bathroom, she knocked on the door.

"Malfoy, are you in there?" She shouted through the door, hoping he'd have left already so she'd be able to shower and brush her teeth without any distractions.

"Yes, go away." A brash shout replied, muffled by the door but distinctly harsh and very Malfoy nonetheless.

"Are you almost done? Classes start in an hour!" Hermione shouted back. Malfoy didn't reply. "Malfoy, don't be a prick!" Still no reply. "Malfoy, I swear to Merlin if you don't open thi-"

The door swung open and Hermione was met with Malfoy, his hair still slightly wet but otherwise looking as composed as ever.

"It's all yours." He said with a smug smirk, gesturing towards the door in a dramatic way.

"I don't need your sarcasm Malfoy. There's no need to be rude." Hermione huffed, flouncing past him and shutting the door on his face. Behind her, she could hear his light laughter. Surprisingly, she found that she liked his laugh. Quite a lot. Smiling to herself, she began to get ready for classes.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and ready for classes, she was met with Dobby twiddling his thumbs.

"Oh, hey Dobby!" Hermione smiled. The small house elf had doubled up socks on his ears, hands, and feet. The ones on his hands had been cut to make something that looked similar to fingerless gloves.

"Missus Hermione! Dobby is very happy to see you!" Dobby replied cheerfully, waving his little hands in excitement.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Hermione asked the elf, questioning his presence in her common room.

"Headmistress McGonagall has asked Dobby to bring Missus Hermione to her office, please." Dobby hesitated, never having been an elf to like being the one giving the commands.

"Alright, let's go!" Hermione replied happily, wanting to calm the elf down. After all, being the Head Girl she was bound to need to visit McGonagall at least a few times during her eighth year.

Dobby led her back through the dragon portrait guarding their common room, all the way to the massive Griffin statue which concealed the entrance to the Headmaster's, or rather, to the Headmistress's office. In front of her, Dobby whispered the password, too quiet for her to hear.

 _Strange._ Hermione thought to herself. _Dumbledore was never this secretive about his passwords, and now that the war is over I can't see any reason why McGonagall would need to be._

As the statue began to turn, Hermione stepped on the stairs, and began to twist her way up the little tower to the office of McGonagall. Dobby had already scampered off, which struck her as strange once again.

"Hello! Headmistress McGonagall, it's me. Hermione!" Hermione called out loudly and clearly, stammering a bit over her name. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to explain who she was. McGonagall would be expecting her. Yet, something felt off about this meeting.

"Yes, I knew I could count on you to be speedy. It's good you got here so fast. I have important news for you." McGonagall spoke to her from a seated position at the grand desk in the center of the room. Peering at Hermione over her thin-rimmed glasses, McGonagall's face expressed something very serious, a look she hadn't seen since the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Well, I'm here now. What did you need to tell me?" Hermione replied, lowering herself into the plush red velvet chair across from the desk.

"First, I must guarantee that what I am about to say here will be shared only under your sizeable discretion. You cannot share this information with anyone other than those you deem absolutely in need of it." McGonagall's tone was incredibly severe, and under her piercing glare all Hermione could do was nod.

"Good. I'm afraid what I have to say is quite surprising. You have done well to have seated yourself." McGonagall had started stalling, Hermione could tell.

"Just tell me. I fought in the war, I destroyed horcruxes, I obliviated my own parents…. Whatever you have to say I'm sure I can handle it." Hermione spoke passionately, reassuring McGonagall (and, to a degree, herself) of her ability to deal with pressures.

"There's a Second Dark Lord on the rise, Hermione. And, I'm afraid he is after your roommate." McGonagall blurted out the information so fast Hermione had to take a second to process it. Slowly, her concerned expression turned to one of shock.

"That can't be. Voldemort is…. He's dead! Harry killed him! I… I saw it with my own eyes…" Hermione found herself unable to speak, so shocked was she at the news. Despite her protests, she knew McGonagall wasn't the kind to joke about something like this, and she must be 100% certain of the fact if she was telling Hermione.

McGonagall continued on, explaining the situation to the shocked Hermione, who know listened raptly to her every word.

"Following the end of the Second Wizarding War, you surely must have heard of the outbreaks of violence against muggleborns. Ex-Death Eaters, knowing they would be captured eventually, set off to wreak as much havoc as they could before their imprisonment in Azkaban."

Hermione nodded, recalling the reports in the Daily Prophet of the attacks.

"Well, the Order took it upon themselves to track these attacks, and we discovered that they weren't as random as the Ministry had said they were. The attacks were all against Muggleborns who had spoken out against Voldemort, and who had influence in court proceedings in Death Eater trials. The attackers, upon capture by Aurors, all had a specific type of sediment on the bases of their shoes."

Not knowing where McGonagall was going with this, Hermione merely nodded, hesitating still to speak.

"We traced the organic signature of the soil back to a specific set of caves in the north of Ireland, caves only accessible to those of magical blood. The caves appeared empty when we arrived, but upon further inspection our Aurors found a note written on the wall in what we identified as Muggle blood."

Hermione gasped, as the color drained from her face. She suddenly found herself devoid of breath, and started coughing. McGonagall handed her a glass of water, and waited for Hermione to calm herself down.

"The note read "The Dark Lord is dead. But darkness will prevail. The might of the second Dark Lord will overshadow Voldemort's regime, and all light will vanish." We had a number of handwriting experts attempt to trace the handwriting, but it would seem that the person who wrote the note was the same Muggle who's blood it is in. I trust you understand what this means." Mcgonagall paused for a brief moment, making sure Hermione was still focusing. Of course, Hermione's rapt attention was fully focused on McGonagall's words, and so she proceeded.

"We have reason to believe that this second Dark Lord is targeting the old followers of Voldemort, and the Malfoy's are some of the most notorious deserters of the war. For this reason, I have accepted Draco Malfoy back into Hogwarts, and his being Head Boy is in part due to you."

Hermione, shocked and still unable to speak, just shot McGonagall a questioning glance.

"By making Mr. Malfoy Head Boy, I will be able to more closely monitor his activities, and with you as Head Girl you will be able to inform me if his behavior changes radically, or if he goes missing. I don't fear him rejoining this second Dark Lord by choice. Mr. Malfoy is far to smart to let himself be played twice. However, I do fear that he may be blackmailed into doing awful things if he is exposed to this new madman. Hence, I have a few things I need you to take care of for me."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione found her voice. "Tell me what I need to do."

 _Hours Later_

Hermione walked at a brisk pace towards the Hospital Wing. McGonagall had confirmed her suspicion that Malfoy was in counseling, and had advised Hermione to keep track of his progress. With a note in hand (should Madam Pomfrey try to kick her out), Hermione trekked up the stairs, her anxiety rising as each step took her closer to Malfoy.

McGonagall had told Hermione to tell others at her own discretion, and Hermione planned to tell Malfoy as soon as possible. If she could act as his ally this time around, perhaps he wouldn't turn back to the dark side of the war. If she could just gain his trust, perhaps he could be a valuable asset for those who fought for the light.

Peeking into the door into the Hospital Wing, she saw no one in sight, save a first year fast asleep in a corner bed who, judging by the broom propped against his bed, had taken a tumble during a flying lesson. Stepping into the room, she headed towards Pomfrey's office, and placed her ear against the closed door.

Draco:

"Shhh, shhh, calm down, calm down" Pomfrey placed her hand on his back, maternally rubbing circles over the tense frame of the blonde-haired wizard hyperventilating in her office.

"How am I supposed to calm down? My mother is being held hostage by some maniac who won't even tell me what he wants!" Draco shouted, a voice in his head reminding him that it wasn't Pomfrey's fault. As usual, he shoved the voice of reason back, and pushed her hand away, standing and pacing instead.

"This note is the first I'm sure they'll be more…" Pomfrey tried once more to reason with Draco, but he tuned her out as he started yelling at her attempted rationale.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better how? I don't want them to give me an ultimatum I want my mother safe! I can't lose her, I-" Draco cut off with a strangled sob, his lungs working overtime with his fast-paced breaths. He had always suffered panic attacks, and had just recently learned to control them, but he was so long gone that he couldn't even think to do his calming exercises.

"It's not your fault, darling. Whoever wrote this letter is the guilty party." Pomfrey walked over to Draco, who's hand was inching closer to the doorknob.

"It is my fault though. They don't want her, they want me. But I left her there, so they took her to get to me!" Feeling the hot tears prick at the edges of his eye, Malfoy reached for the doorknob, grabbing it.

Before he could leave entirely, Pomfrey shouted one last thing at him. "You can't do anything right now in this state. Please, calm down! Don't be rash and-"

SLAM!

Draco slammed the door shut behind him as he raced out of the room. He was alone now, without his mother, and Pomfrey didn't know anything about loss or being alone or-

BUMP!

"Are you okay?" A female voice asked Draco, as he blinked away the tears to see Granger standing over him holding out her hand to help him up.

"You ran into me, see. I was on my way to fetch you and McGonagall told me I'd probably find you here." Granger launched into an explanation of why she was there, but Draco just tuned her out, choosing instead to cut her off the second she stopped for a breath.

"What did you hear?" Draco demanded, a serious face deadpanning Granger into silence.

"I, uh… what?"

"You were standing outside of the doorway, and you must have been eavesdropping. What all did you overhear?"

"Not much…. I, um… I'm sorry about your mother."

"Great, the whole school will know now. That's just…. Fantastic." Draco surprised even himself as he pushed himself off of the ground calmly, rather than launching into a verbal attack on Granger. He wasn't sure why he didn't chew her out for eavesdropping, or threaten her not to tell. He was just… so tired. He didn't even want to fight anymore. His mother, his lifeboat, the reason he came back here at all… she was being held hostage and there was nothing he could do about it.

Barely registering Granger's shocked face at his calm reaction, he started to walk away in the direction of their common room. A few seconds later, he heard light footsteps chasing after him down the hallway, and felt Granger's presence by his side.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, you know." A small mutter came from her mouth, hesitant at first but bold by the end, as she turned and met his gaze.

"Why not? It's not like you owe me anything."

"We have bigger things to worry about than petty schoolyard rivalries."

Draco raised his eyebrow, willing an explanation from the bushy-haired Gryffindor, but she merely shook her head, and motioned down the hallway to the common room. _It would appear that what she wants to talk about sensitive information._ Following Granger inside the portrait in silence, the two sat down across from each other at the kitchen table.

Before Draco could even ask what this was about, she launched into a description of everything McGonagall had told her, talking about McGonagall's theories and why he had been accepted back into Hogwarts.

Shocked, Draco shook his head to clear the thoughts that tumbled around his mind when Granger finally stopped to look at him.

"Well? Do you think it has anything to do with your mother?" Granger wasted no time, and got straight to the point. Draco hadn't even had time to consider why his mother had been kidnapped, but it made sense with the information Granger had just provided him.

"It… that's the most probable explanation I guess…" Draco stuttered, having a hard time finding his voice as the information settled in.

"You miss her a lot, don't you?" A soft murmur exited her lips, barely audible to Draco.

"I don't…." Draco cut off when she gave him a knowing look. Damn. He couldn't fake nonchalance when she had already seen him broken down in tears over his mother. "You know the answer, why bother asking?"

"Because you might want to talk about."

"I don't."

"Well, then because you deserve to know that you aren't alone."

"What do you know about being alone? You are surrounded by people who love you and care about you! I have no one left but my mother!" Draco stood up abruptly slamming his hands on the table with anger.

"My parents are dead." Granger spoke softly, and looked up at him with an earnest expression on her face, looking just as vulnerable as he felt.

"Well, there's still people who care for you. At least you have your friends, your classmates. No-one trusts me at this school! I am alone! I'm so…. Alone…." Draco's voice reached its apex and faded away, his last alone cut off by a break in his voice. Closing his eyes as he felt his face grow red, he fought back the tears that threatened to brim over.

Suddenly, he felt smaller, softer hands place themselves over his, which still rested half curled up on the table. The feminine hands, curling themselves between his fingers, gave his tense hands a squeeze, and the thumbs rubbed in calming circles on the edges of his palm.

"You're not alone Draco." Hermione moved one of her hands to Draco's face, where she wiped away the tears that had managed to escape his tightly shut lids. "You have me."

His eyes shot open, and he found himself closer to her face than he had been before he shut his eyes. His face grew red at their proximity, and he pushed away the hand on his face while pulling his hand on the table from under hers.

"I don't want you, Granger. You can't possibly be a substitute for my mother." He looked away from the small girl across from him, aiming his eyes at the painting in their living room, which had suddenly became very interesting to him as he stared at it unblinkingly.

"I don't need to be a substitute for your mother. I'll be something new." Granger spoke up hesitantly from where she was still seated.

"Oh yeah?" Draco replied tensely, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "And what could you possibly be to me?"

Still focused on the painting, he heard the sliding of a chair on the wood floor, and a few footsteps. Then, unexpectedly, he felt a pair of hands wrap themselves around his waist, and a face nuzzle against his back as he was pulled into a hug with the last person on earth he'd have ever imagined being hugged by.

"Malfoy, I'll be exactly what you need." Granger spoke hesitantly, and he felt the words on his back as her mouth moved against his shoulders.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Draco attempted to replied in a snarky manner, but found himself sounding genuinely interested in her answer. He also found himself unable (or perhaps just unwilling) to move out of the hug he was being held in, though he found it wasn't as unpleasant as he would have thought.

"I'll be your friend." At these words, she detached from Draco, and started walking off to her bedroom. In a rush of emotion, Draco swirled around to grab her wrist before she got out of arm's reach.

"I- Thank you, Granger." He spoke up, softly but with purpose.

His gratitude was met with a brilliant smile from the girl whose hand he was practically holding.

"Hermione." She laughed in reply.

"I'm sorry, what?" confused, Draco shot her a puzzled look.

"If we're gonna be friends, you should start calling me Hermione." She stated it so matter-of-factly that Draco found himself nodding before she even finished her sentence.

"Okay… Well, goodnight…. Hermione." Her name rolled so smoothly off his tongue he felt as though he was meant to say just her name for the rest of his life. It felt so natural to call her by her first name, despite having called her Granger for years. He didn't think anything could sound better than Hermione's name rolling off his lips.

"Goodnight… Draco." Hermione called behind her as she yawned, walking back to her bedroom.

Scratch that. The best sounding thing in the world was _definitely_ Hermione saying his name. He could get used to this whole friendship thing.


	8. Friendly Banter

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters_

Draco:

"Merlin, Malfoy open the damn door! We have to meet with the prefects in an hour!"

Groggily, Draco sat up in his bed, stretching out his arms as he lazily smiled at the morning. Last night he must have gone to sleep happy, because for some odd reason he felt good today. He hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

"Malfoy! I will curse you until all of your hair falls out! Unlock this door right now and get going!"

 _Oh yeah! Last night Hermione and I became friends… I finally have someone in my life who gives a damn about me…_

"Malfoy! I don't give a damn about your beauty sleep get your lazy ass out of bed!"

Registering the shrill voice outside of his door, Draco backtracked. Maybe they weren't the perfect model of best friends overnight. _Everything takes time, I guess._ Chuckling to himself, Draco made his way to the door at a leisurely pace. As he pulled it open, he was met by the tip of Hermione's wand, and with a face that could easily have made a weaker man wet his pants. Malfoy wasn't a weaker man though, and he hadn't yet met a challenge he didn't face head-on.

"What's with all the yelling, Hermione? Haven't you had your coffee yet?" Draco smiled to himself as her name rolled off of his tongue, liking how it still felt different (in a good way) and foreign (again, in a good way). He started to walk past her to the kitchen, where he pulled out the coffee beans and started making himself a cup.

"Malfoy! We have to leave this apartment in-" Hermione's voice cut off as she looked down at her watch. "In 53 minutes!"

"It's Draco, Hermione. D-R-A-C-O." Draco shook his head as he mockingly scolded her. "Friends call each other by their first names, and since I call you Hermione you should give me the same courtesy."

"I think I liked you better as a mortal enemy." Hermione grumbled, but she didn't call him any derogatory slurs, she he supposed that was a good start. This was turning out to be their nicest conversation yet!

"Tsk, tsk. That's no way to talk to the person who is making you coffee, now is it?" Draco ignored the glares she was shooting him from where she stood across the counter.

"I don't like coffee _Draco._ " Hermione said, specifically accentuating his name as if to point out that she was indeed following his previous instructions.

"Oh well, I guess this will be for me then." Draco smirked, having known all along the cup he was making was for himself. He just wanted to get her riled up. It was, after all, quite amusing.

"You are absolutely insufferable, you know that?" Hermione rebuked half-heartedly, with a soft smile glancing her fair features.

"Thanks, I've been working on my insufferability."

"Prat."

"Know-it-all."

"Idiot."

"Prude."

They continued arguing with little quips, until they tired of the back and forth and started eating breakfast. Parting ways, Draco left Hermione in the kitchen finishing her toast, while he went to go get changed out of his pajamas. Hermione was already dressed when she woke him up, so he was the only one who had yet to get ready.

When he finished getting dressed, he walked back out into the common room to find Hermione reading on the couch. He smiled at how natural it was for them to exist together suddenly. He had no idea how she had done it, but somehow Hermione Granger had managed to worm her way into his life, and he wasn't sure if he ever wanted her to leave.

Hermione:

Looking up from her book, she noticed Draco (how weird it felt to call him anything other than Malfoy, even in her head) staring at her with a smile on his face.

"What, do I have food on my face?" She laughed at his shock when he realized she had caught him staring.

"N- no, no. Your face is good. Really good actually. It's um… nevermind." Draco trailed off, one of his hands reaching up to rub behind his neck as he smiled awkwardly at the conclusion of his reply

"Good! Then let's go!" Hermione jumped up from her seat on the couch, and started walking towards to door, looking back to see Draco making his way behind her.

The pair walked to the meeting room for the prefects side by side, considerably closer to one another than they had ever walked in the past. They journeyed in comfortable silence, and when the arrived to the meeting room started prepping in the same silent manner. As the last of the prefects trickled in through the doors, Hermione started the meeting.

"As you all know, this year McGonagall has been trying to have more school-wide events, in hopes of creating greater inter-house unity. The school-wide intramural Quidditch game last week went well, but really was limited to fans of sports. Hence, the Headmistress has asked us to organize an event she believes will better connect a more diverse spectrum of students." Hermione paused, letting her words sink in before she unveiled the nature of the event.

"On October 31st, we will be hosting an All Hallow's Eve ball!" Hermione exclaimed. McGonagall had told her this information a few day's before the information session on the second Dark Lord, and Hermione had anxiously waited to tell people until now.

"Draco and I have already distributed assignments to prefect pairs. These pairs are coupled by year, but not by house. We believe this will help make the planning more satisfying to all of the houses, and enable us to fulfill a greater range of requests for varying houses."

On this final note, there was a small flurry of activity as prefect pairs found each other, grabbed their assignments from Hermione or Draco, and made their way out the door. After the room cleared out, Draco turned to Hermione with a demanding look on his face.

"When were you planning on telling me we were hosting an All Hallow's Eve ball? I am Head Boy, you know. I'm supposed to know about this stuff." Draco demanded accusingly.

"When Headmistress McGonagall called the meeting to announce it, you were M.I.A., so she only told me. You were probably with, erm, Madam Pomfrey." Hermione replied meekly, aware that she should have told him after she found out. It was just… he was always gone, and they weren't even friends until last night so she never really stretched herself to seek him out.

"You still should have told me…" Draco grumbled, but he didn't press the issue any further as they finished clearing the meeting room and started on their way back to the common room. It was a weekend, so they had no place to be, and took their time.

"If it makes you feel any better, I gave us the most fun task!" Hermione turned her head to look at her blonde co-Head, and waited for him to became interested in what she was so excited to do.

"What?" Draco replied with zero enthusiasm, staring straight ahead as they continued towards the common room.

"Decorating the Great Hall!" Hermione clapped her hands a little bit, as she jumped up and down while they walked. She was really looking forward to the ball, and thought it would be a great chance for Draco to destress, and for her to stop worrying about this second Dark Lord.

"Sounds great, Hermione." Draco smiled half-heartedly, and she knew he was mustering up as much excitement as he could.

"Okay. Why are you so mopey?" Hermione poked his shoulder as he spoke the password to the Opal-Eyed guard to their common room.

"Because apparently you don't care that I'm just as much Head Boy as you are Head Girl." Draco, who she wasn't expecting to reply to her question, spoke quietly, but she still heard him.

"Draco, come on…" Hermione was flustered. That Draco was this upset was surprising to her, and she didn't really understand why he was bothered. "I didn't tell you because we weren't really on friendly terms back then, that's all."

"Back then? It was like, a week since then."

"Well, things changed, haven't they. We're friends now, aren't we? We weren't friends a week ago."

"Well…" Draco stumbled in his retorts, but quickly found his voice again. "Why are we friends, Hermione?"

Hermione, about to reply with some stereotypical "Because we are, that's why", stopped herself, as she reflected on why they were friends. If she was being honest, there wasn't a good reason why they were friends.

"I- I don't know Draco." She replied with the truest answer she could find.

"There you go again, calling me Draco." Draco's back was to her, they stood just inside of their common room, neither having moved since walking inside.

"Would you prefer I go back to calling you Malfoy?" Hermione, not used to be confused, was entirely perplexed. She didn't understand why Draco had a problem with her calling him by his name, or why he felt the need to question their friendship.

"No, it's fine… just, I don't know, it's strange, isn't it?" Draco turned to look at Hermione, his face full of questions, searching her eyes for the answer's she couldn't give him. "I mean, we went from not being on speaking terms to being on a first name basis…. Normally, most people don't skip that many steps."

"Well, then I guess we aren't most people, are we?" Hermione shrugged her shoulders, then looked away from Draco while she took off her jacket and hung it by the door, unaware of how simplistically she had just answered a major defining question.

Turning back to look at Draco, who's mouth hung open (just a little bit), she cracked a grin. "Care for some hot cocoa?"


	9. Special Delivery

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters_

Draco:

It was the middle of the night when Draco woke to a tapping on his window. Seeing an owl sitting on the ledge with an envelope in its mouth, he made his way out of bed to unclasp the lock on the window, letting in the nocturnal bird. Taking the slightly heavy letter from the bird, he gave it a treat from the stash he kept by the window, and it flew away. Looking at the letter, he turned it over in his hands, feeling a lump in the package. _Funny._ He thought to himself. _I don't remember ordering anything in the Wizard Post._

Grabbing his silver letter opener, he sat at the desk in his room. Opening up the package, the mysterious object fell to the floor. Bending down to pick it up, Draco's hand stopped. As he registered what had just been delivered to him, his breath caught in his throat, and his fingers began to tremble. Picking it up, he raced to Hermione's door.

"Hermione!" Knocking on the door with thunderous power, Draco frantically called the name of his roommate and newfound friend. "Hermione, I need you! Please open the door! I need-"

The door to Hermione's room swung open, and Draco was met with the sleepy face of Hermione, still dressed in her flannel pajamas.

"Thank Merlin you're alright! I'm sorry to bother you I just… thank Merlin…" Draco found himself at a loss for words as he stared down at the confused face of Hermione.

"Draco, what… what's going on?" Hermione found her words carefully.

"Nothing, I just…. I needed to see that you were here with me and I needed someone and…." Draco found himself starting a panic attack, and he suddenly couldn't breathe.

Hermione ushered him into her room, where she sat him down on the bed, careful not to jostle him in his fragile state.

"Slow down, Draco. Just talk to me. What's wrong?

Draco tensed up. He didn't want to burden her with the letter's contents, and he really didn't want her to see him like this. It was unbecoming for a Malfoy to be seen in such a state, and in the presence of a Mudblood nonetheless.

DAMNIT! Draco suddenly realized what an idiot he'd been these past two days, and jolted up from Hermione's soft bed and warm touch. _She's a mudblood, you idiot._ How could he have forgotten about her blood status? He was a disgrace. He shouldn't be here. He started to leave when Hermione's voice stopped him.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to remember. I had thought I still had until classes started up again tomorrow, but it seems fate chose to have you realize it sooner. What a spoil sport." Hermione laughed, but it was a sad laugh.

Immediately, Draco's immediate impulse was to comfort her, to find out what was wrong. But, then he remembered she was a muggleborn, and he was a Malfoy, and that they made no sense.

 _That must have been why things felt so wrong earlier today after the prefect meeting. It was my subconscious reminding me that friendship with her was out of the question. People don't become friends that quickly. She's after my title, my money. Maybe she was planning to get close to me just to shame me in front of the school. The conniving little wi-_

"I didn't have any ulterior motives, you know." Hermione's dejected voice broke him out of his paranoid reverie. "I just knew that you needed someone to be with you, and for some reason I felt compelled to be that somebody."

Draco tried to block her out. She had to be lying. Mudbloods were the scum of the earth, they were trying to take over the society of the wizarding world. She was just trying to social climb. _Yeah, that's it. She only wanted to befriend me because she knew it would bring her closer to power._

"Draco, I don't want you to be hurt, I would have thought that was clear by now."

 _Of course you don't want me hurt. That would just ruin your chance at climbing to the top of the social ladder and taking over the wizarding world._

"Draco, I care about you."

 _Of course you-_ "Wait, what?" Draco, having unintentionally spoken aloud, clasped his hands over his mouth.

With a sad smile, Hermione walked around the bed to stand in front of Malfoy. "I care about you, your feelings, your wellbeing. I want you to be okay."

Draco felt his heart fluttering, even as he silently willed it not to beat for her. It seemed that his body was no longer under his control, and before his mind could stop it, the words had fallen off of his lips.

"I care about you too, Hermione." The words sputtered out, and Draco cursed himself silently for his weakness. Her name still felt perfect on his tongue, and deep down he knew that he really had meant what he said, but his values still made him question the sanity of the whole affair. "But, we can never be even a little bit close. I'm a Malfoy. I'm supposed to hate you."

"Who says?" Hermione didn't hesitate on her words, stepping closer to him and peering into his eyes.

"My father."

"Your father is in Azkaban, with little more than a brain cell left in his empty head thanks to the dementors."  
"Pureblood society, then. Tradition. All of the values I was raised with. Need I say more?"

"Who says they are right? Ron is a pureblood, and he doesn't see me as an inferior being."

Without understanding why, the mention of the Weasel made Draco's blood boil. "Well, if Weasley is so understanding why don't you spend more time with him, instead of trying to take advantage of me!" Draco spat the nonsense at her, knowing full well it was rubbish and hoping against all hope Hermione would realize it too and not turn around to see Weasley right then and there.

"I'm not trying to take advantage of you Draco!" Flustered, Hermione flung her arms in the air.

She really needed to stop saying his name. _It sounds so perfect, but the whole ordeal is just so, so… so wrong._

"Stop calling me Draco, goddamnit! It's Mr. Malfoy to people like you!"

"People like me? Oh, you mean the only person who attempted to be nice to you in this whole school? The only person here who knows about everything- and I do mean everything- that you did as a Death Eater and still tried to be your friend?" Hermione's voice rose up in octave, and her face grew red as she shouted at him, her eyes growing watery.

"It was all a ruse you made up to get me to put my guard down, I see through the whole act." Draco turned his head to the side, refusing to look at her as tears began to run down her face.

"Who was acting, Malfoy? Because I wasn't. I really thought you cared a little bit for me too. I wasn't acting. But, I guess you were." Hermione shot a glare at him, then pointed towards the door as she wiped away the tears.

"It's not my fault you can't tell the difference between faked emotions and real ones. Mudbloods are too stupid and incapable to anything we Purebloods can do." Draco retorted, rolling his shoulder's back proudly to reach his full height as he attempted to get the last word in the conversation.

"Incapable? Stupid? I consistently score better than you in every class. I punched you in third year. I have more friends than you and people who care about me. The only thing you've ever beat me at is flying, and that's only because I haven't tried. Though, I guess there is one thing you're good at…" Hermione's voice trailed off, and she looked up at Draco's shocked face to deliver her final crushing line. "You're quite good at getting people to hate you."

As the door slammed shut on his face, Draco realized all too late he had forgotten the package's contents in Hermione's room. Even as he caught himself thinking of it as Hermione's room, he knew he should be calling it Granger's room. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to go back to stage one. He didn't think he could handle admitting that he was even more alone than before.

Making his way back to his room, he crawled into the bed he had left a mere hour ago. _Oh, how an hour can change a life_. He thought to himself, as the clock chimed midnight. As he drifted back to sleep, however, his mind tossed and tumbled with all the reasons Hermione had given him as to why his logic was faulty, why she was his equal.

She was smarter than him, at least in classes. She easily rivaled him in terms of raw magical ability, and she outshone her classmates in talent. She was by no means ugly (though Draco tried very hard not to dwell on this one), and had grown to be quite the remarkable witch. The more he thought about it, the more he began to question what he grew up mindlessly believing. And, the more he questioned it, the more he realized he had totally and completely screwed up.

Hermione:

Still seething from her argument with the blonde-haired prick, Hermione paced the length of her room, running through their conversation, trying to find out where she had went wrong. The conversation had started with him being vulnerable, then somehow he had turned the tables and they both left with one less friend and bruised egos.

She debated going to his room and trying to reason with him more calmly about the inaccuracies of blood status, but something stopped her. It wasn't that she was too prideful to go, it was that Malfoy was to prideful to come. Malfoy's pride had gotten them into this mess, and only when he let it go would they be able to go back to their comfortable friendship, which, though short lived, had made her feel more alive than she had in quite a while.

As she climbed into the bed, she didn't noticed the shining silver object that she kicked under her bed, and she was asleep long before it started to glow.


	10. Death Comes to Hogwarts Again

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters_

Draco:

It had been days since he had crossed paths with Hermione. Occasionally, he'd see her climbing the stairs, or would seek her out in the Great Hall, his eyes always pulled to the Gryffindor table as they sought her out. He still saw her in the classes they shared, but nowhere near enough to feel fully sated. As much as he was loathe to admit it, he missed her.

Even before that short-lived weekend where they had grown close, they had at least exchanged cordial greetings, occasionally spat some back and forth at each other. Without her presence, he found the entire world had changed.

Before he had grown close to her, the world was distinctly black, white, and shades of grey. There were the good guys, the bad guys, and the guys who balanced on the fine, fine line between the two, just waiting to fall to one side or another.

After growing closer to Hermione, everything was vibrant Technicolor, and the world was different. He felt at ease and stimulated, happy and sad. It was like a dream, yet he felt more awake than ever.

After their fight, the world couldn't return to black and white, but it would never be full color again. Suddenly his world was dull shades of brown, sepia in the dullest sense. His glimpses of her would spark bits of color, but quickly return to brown, the very brown of her hair, or of her tanned skin. The warm honey brown of her eyes. The brown of the hot chocolate she loved to sip, or the brown of the leather bound edition of Hogwarts: A History that she so adored reading. The world was in shades of Hermione.

As he made his way to the library for more books he didn't need, he felt ashamed in himself. The past few days he had been nothing more than a shadow of himself, ghosting along behind Hermione. He visited the library every day after classes to see if she was there, and his room had around seventeen books in it he had checked out under the premise of "personal research".

Unknown to Madame Pince, however, was the fact that every one of those books had a common theme. They were all from the 5th aisle to the left, three bookshelves down. You see, if Draco stood in this area, he could peer through the shelves to where Hermione sat and did her homework everyday after classes.

She seemed so unaffected by their distance, though he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. She had other friends, he was the lonely one. Every meal she would sit at the Gryffindor table and joke with Potter and the Weasel, taking no notice of the grey-eyed stare on her back.

Given, Malfoy did have people who liked him. Blaise was cheerful as ever, and Theo was a great confidante, but they just wouldn't understand. They still believed the pureblood propaganda that he was beginning to recognize as pure nonsense.

Draco had, after much deliberation, recognized the truth in Hermione's words, and he was struggling to come to terms with the new truths. After all, facts worked in Hermione's favor, but tradition was tradition, and breaking from it would require more courage than Draco had.

Sighing, Draco made his way to the left of the library, turning down the 5th aisle, and finding his way to the third bookshelf. She wasn't there though, at least not today.

Draco immediately panicked, then resisted the urge to slap himself upside the head for being a numbskull. Hermione was a smart and capable witch. She could handle herself. Not to mention, it wasn't like she was required to be at this table. For all he knew, she was hanging out with the female Weasel, or watching Potter practice on the Quidditch Field. _Or she could be making out with Weasley in an abandoned classroom._ The voice in his head taunted him, and he felt himself grow angry at the mere thought of Weasley and Hermione.

Walking out of the library with two more books in tow, he headed back to the common room to sit alone in his room and wait for Hermione to come back. Not that he would say hi or leave his room or anything. He just… He liked knowing she was nearby.

As he walked through the hallway, though, he heard a scream coming from down a nearby corridor. Dropping the useless books he was carrying, Draco raced towards the scream, hoping against hope it wasn't Hermione.

Hermione:

Making her way back to the Head Common room, Hermione was in a stump. Her plan had been to make Draco make the first move. But, it seemed he was waiting for a sign from her.

She wasn't blind or deaf, and Draco was certainly not sneaky or quiet. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he'd been following her. She'd noticed him in the library more often, and she noticed that more and more books kept going missing from the shelf nearest her study table, while Malfoy's room seemed to be piling up with the dusty volumes. She'd felt his stares on her in the Great Hall, and had been rushing away from him in the hallways and in class. She could see in his eyes that he was losing faith in what he had always believed in, and that he was doubting the pureblood values he had been raised on. She figured that would have been enough to get him to make the first move, but she was wrong.

Today, she had broken habit, going to visit with Hagrid instead of her usual library study session. She figured that since it was a Friday she could do the studying she'd missed over the weekend. As she walked up the flight of stairs, she wondered where Draco was, and if he had looked for her in the library today.

As she turned the corner, she was met with the most terrifying sight she had seen since the Battle of Hogwarts, and she let out a blood-curdling scream.

Before her was the body of one of the giant spiders of the Forbidden Forest. Every one of it's legs had been torn off, and were sticking out of it's eye sockets. The body itself was bloated, and cut down the middle, where it's organs spilled out in a grey mess.

It's mouth was open in a gaping position, and on one of its mandibles was a note. Before she had the chance to read it, the sound of footsteps racing down the hallway made her stand alert, wary that the approaching stranger could be the person who committed the crime.

Rounding the corner, her wand was pointed at the very person she had been thinking about earlier. The blonde-haired Slytherin pushed her wand aside in his haste, and his hands reached up to grab her face.

"Are you alright? Who hurt you? What's wrong?" Draco spoke in a rush, looking over all of the exposed skin on her body to check for bruises or scratches. His face was filled with concern, and Hermione's heart beat a little bit louder at his close proximity.

"Why the sudden willingness to touch a mudblood, Malfoy?" Hermione's words were fiery and though she did not tear herself away from his caring touch, she wanted him to know he was going to have to work for her forgiveness. She was going to make him realize that she wasn't a prize to be won, that she was a real live person and that she had him wrapped around her pinky finger.

Draco's face fell, and with it his hands dropped to his sides, where he began to fidget with his pants seams. "Actually that's something I've been wanting to talk to you about, Hermione." He spoke with genuine care in his voice, and Hermione felt compelled to just forgive him then and there, but she remained steadfast in her decision to remain stoic towards him.

"Okay, then talk." Hermione minced no words, shooting Draco a look that (she hoped) communicated quite clearly that she was a busy woman.

"Well, I've been thinking about what you said…" Draco started, uneasy.

"I say a lot of things you'll have to be more specific." Hermione knew, of course, what he was talking about, but she wanted to hear him say it just for her sake.

"Purebloods and mudbloods. Well, you said that there's really no difference between them and, the more I reflect on it, the more I realize how right you are. I mean, magic doesn't come from just anywhere, right?" Draco looked to Hermione for confirmation that what he was saying was okay, and at her nod he continued.

"Well, you probably have wizarding blood in you somewhere. And Pureblood families make squibs, so we must have muggle blood in us somewhere, right? Maybe it's not about the blood you have, but the person you are. And, if you're a magic person, you're a magic person i guess? I don't know I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all and I'm probably wrong on a lot of it but-" Draco stopped himself when he realized he'd started blabbering, and looked at Hermione's face to see how his admission had been received.

"It's about time you dummy." Hermione smiled at Draco. The boy was a big-headed fool, but when he put that big head of his to use he could accomplish great things.

"I'm just glad we're alright again." Draco laughed, then suddenly looked at Hermione in concern again. "Wait, why were you screaming?"

Hermione's small smile turned morbid, and she gestured around the corner, showing him the huge dead Acromantula that lay in pieces in Hogwarts.

"Why… Who did this?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"Well, the Acromantula wouldn't have been able to get into Hogwarts all on it's own, and it certainly wouldn't have dismembered itself, meaning this was a murder. The fact that the body is so disfigured was probably intentional, meant to promote panic and fear. As for the who, well, I think that letter will tell us, or at least clue us in. Of course, I have my suspicions…" Hermione concluded what she had deduced thus far, unable to tear her eyes away from the massive corpse laying in front of her.

"The second Dark Lord." Draco guessed, but when Hermione nodded the two knew that that's what the spider must have died from.

"Only one way to find out." Hermione cast a spell on the parchment to reveal any curses, and when the spell turned up negative she reached out to grab the paper. A thick white goo stuck it to the spider, and she couldn't free the paper (which was, unluckily, writing side down), from the sticky substance.

"Get over here and help me, you good for nothing!" Hermione exclaimed, her hands covered in the goo.

Draco made his way over and in a little under 30 seconds was able to cut the letter free with a severing charm and a bit of brute force.

"Not fair you used magic!" Hermione complained, upset that he'd been able to do what she couldn't and that he wasn't even covered in spider slobber (or maybe it was webs? Hermione didn't really know).

"You're a witch, aren't you? Might wanna try using magic a little bit too!" Draco laughed, as he scourgified the paper clean.

Hermione walked over to Draco, and read over his shoulder. The note was simple, reading plainly:

 _From the Dark Lord's ashes a second will rise_

 _And there is no prophecy about his demise_

 _Hand over the boy with eyes of grey_

 _Or his mother may not live to see another day_

It was typed so that handwriting couldn't hint at its owner, though of course the signature at the bottom gave away some clues. It was signed with a simple copy of the Dark Mark, but instead of a skull vomiting the snake, it was an inferi. The small difference made the image all the more striking and gruesome.

Draco's hand went straight to his left arm, clutching his forearm like he could squeeze it off.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of Draco. I know the circumstance under which you were initiated. You had no choice." Hermione tried to reassure Draco, but it was futile.

"Everyone has a choice. I just decided to let my father do all of my choosing for me. Worst choice I ever made." Draco smiled weakly at his own expense, but the smile failed to reach his eyes.

Hermione reached towards the sleeve of his shirt, and slowly began to push up the cuff, revealing the original Dark Mark, without any of this Inferi nonsense. Almost unconsciously, she started to trace the path of the snake running through the skull. She heard Draco's breath catch in his throat, but he didn't stop her so she assumed she was in the clear.

She felt a shiver run through her, and drew away slowly, making eye contact with Draco to assure him she wasn't disgusted by him. She just… she couldn't handle the past, and she only wanted to focus on the present. Draco was starting to see her way of things, and that was all she needed to know.

"Shouldn't we report this to McGonagall?" Draco said, snapping her out of her wonderings.

"I suppose she would like to know…" Hermione hesitated, wanting to savor this moment alone with the boy she hadn't talked to for weeks.

"We can catch up in the common room later, Hermione. We have to tell the Headmistress." Draco reassured Hermione like a child, explaining the situation to her as one would talk to a seven-year-old. She shot him a glare, but when she find his eyes smiling she found herself grinning back at his jab.

As they started towards the Headmistress's office, Hermione found her hand brushing against Draco's, and, after only a few steps, he grabbed on and gave her small hand a squeeze. Without a word, the two fell into a comfortable pace together, never realizing they hadn't released their handhold.


	11. JUST AN UPDATE

I'm really sorry I haven't been a consistent poster, but I hope that these five new chapters make up for it! I'll be posting like crazy all weekend, so be sure to favorite, follow, and leave some reviews please please please! You guys are the best, and I hope you enjoy my little story! I still have a lot more in store!


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